


Fateswap

by Vox (Akumeoi)



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Angst, Fate & Destiny, Fluff, Gen, Government Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 68,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2061705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumeoi/pseuds/Vox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nezumi grows up in his village... sort of... while Shion is captured and taken to the Correctional Facility at a young age. How will events play out with the roles reversed? And what will happen to the third option?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Drenched Aster

The date was September 7, 2013.

Nezumi stood in the doorway, watching the rain. He didn’t particularly _like_ thunderstorms, per se, but they always made him feel restless, electric. As if he were waiting to be called out of the tiny, stuffy room he spent the majority of his free waking hours in. Strange feeling for someone whose entire family was enslaved by the government of the so-called perfect city, No. 6.

When Nezumi was seven, his entire family had been relocated from their peaceful forest home to this concrete dump sandwiched between a logging plant and the edge of the forest. He didn’t really remember what he had spent his time doing before the move, but now most of it was taken up with taking care of his little sister and his grandmother while his parents worked in the logging plant, cutting down the trees they used to tend. Night time was Nezumi’s only free time, because he had his own room. His mother and his grandmother shared one room, while his father and his sister shared the second, and he, Nezumi, was the owner of the basement. This arrangement wasn’t exactly to Nezumi’s parents’ liking, but his sister was too young and his grandmother too old to be left on their own.

Nezumi missed sleeping in the same room as his family, missed their quiet breathing beside him and the warmth from his little sister curled up beside him. But he would have bitten his tongue off before complaining about it.

The one advantage to having his own room was that he could do stupid things like stand in the rain at the top of the basement stairs and not get yelled at.

The wind whipped his hair around his face, snatched at his clothes, pulled at his thin body so hard he was afraid he’d lose his footing and fall down the stairs. It seemed to want him to move his feet. _Come out into the storm, leave this small room. Run away, run away, Nezumi. You’re good at running, you’re good at hiding; you could leave this place and be free._

Clenching his fists, Nezumi tilted his face up and let cold rain run over his face, splash down the back of his neck, and soak into his shirt. He shivered, the chill making him feel dangerously alive. Instinctively, he took a step away from his room, lifting his arms as if to fly away.

As he did so, he caught a glimpse of motion out of the corner of his eye. Someone had just come out of the woods, and they were headed straight towards him, crossing the 20-yard mud-flat between the house and the treeline.

Nezumi was instantly on alert. He had no weapons, because the Forest People weren’t allowed to keep any. Really, he should have turned around and gone straight down into the safety of his room, but if this stranger was dangerous he had to warn his family. Besides, Nezumi was fairly confidant in his own fighting abilities. His parents had not wanted their son to grow up in such a dangerous environment not knowing how to fight.

At first he thought the person emerging through the rain might be another one of the Forest People, because the officials of No. 6 hated the forest and would never stray there on their own, especially not on a night like this. Then he saw the person’s white hair – and before Nezumi could formulate the thought that it might be an old man, their eyes locked.

It was a boy. He was moving slowly, rhythmically, mechanically, a robot that had been wound up and had no choice but to keep going. The boy staggered to a halt in front of Nezumi and stared at him dumbly. Nezumi knew instantly that this was no lost child of No. 6. His pants were ragged, and a huge chunk of his shirt was torn away, because he was holding it pressed up to the side of his face. There was blood oozing out from between his fingers.

The boy’s eyes were lavender, pale but rich, like the petals of a flower. They should have been beautiful, but Nezumi had never seen such a disturbing colour on anyone else before. Well, perhaps it wasn’t the colour that was disturbing. Perhaps it was the look in those eyes – of terror, of desperation, of pain. Nezumi had seen all those emotions before, but never at once. And it wasn’t just that – there was something else, something worse. He didn’t want to think too hard about what it might be.

They stood there staring at each other for a moment in the pouring rain, Nezumi standing braced and ready, completely blocking the entrance. The other boy seemed shell-shocked, unsure, chest heaving as if to carry his scrawny body forward simply by the force of momentum.

The boy spoke. His mouth moved. But Nezumi could not hear him over the roaring of the wind.

“What?” he shouted. But before the boy could reply, his eyes rolled up into his head and he fell to his knees in the mud with a splash, his arm dropping from his face, allowing the piece of red and brown stained cloth to fall to the ground. Instinctively, Nezumi reached out and caught him under the armpits.

He was light, so light that Nezumi almost dropped him in surprise.

_This one won’t last long… maybe I should just leave him here._

But that wouldn’t be right. Clearly this frail, desperate boy was not a threat. Surely the best course of action was to take him inside?

By now Nezumi was completely soaked, and starting to shiver. He didn’t have time to stand around debating morals. So he carried the stranger inside and closed the door behind them.

Once inside, Nezumi heaved the boy’s limp body onto his mattress and grabbed a dry shirt for himself from the small shelving unit bolted to the wall. After changing his shirt and putting his overlong hair up, he turned his attention again to the boy on the bed.

His face was still bleeding. He was twitching fitfully all over his body, and his eyelashes kept fluttering. Nezumi had no idea what he would do if the boy didn’t wake up on his own. Fortunately, he only had to wait a few moments before the boy’s eyes shot open and he sat up quickly. This was obviously a mistake, as he cried out in pain and grabbed at his rib cage.

Nezumi realised that he was probably going to bleed all over the bed. But it wasn’t the cleanest bed to start with anyway, seeing as Nezumi had to do the laundry by hand, by himself.

“Who are you?” Nezumi said sharply. “You’re not from No. 6, are you?”

“I – I –” the boy stuttered. “My name is Shion. I was… once. Who are you? Please, help me.”

Shion… like the flower.

Nezumi looked at the pathetic figure in front of him, and couldn’t help but be intrigued. And, he couldn’t ignore that sad plea. His heart wasn’t made of stone, after all.

Besides, if Shion died here, he’d have a hard time hiding the body.

“I’m Nezumi. You’re in the middle of nowhere. If you’re looking for a doctor, you’ve come to the wrong place.”

Shion seemed confused by most of this, but he shook his head. “They cut my – I have to stop the bleeding on my face. A – and – if you’ve got any food, I –” He stopped, seeing the frown on Nezumi’s face. Nezumi did not want to share what precious little food he had… but again, he couldn’t just let this boy expire right in front of him.

“Your face. What do you need?” Nezumi asked.

Shion seemed relieved. “Clean water. A needle and thread, if you have those.”

No, Nezumi did not have a needle and thread. Fortunately enough, his family had both electricity (spotty and dim but working) and running water (a tap in his room, one upstairs, and one communal toilet), so he didn’t have to go back out in the rain to get the water. He didn’t know if it was clean, but he had never gotten sick from it, so they would have to assume that it was.

As Nezumi filled a small bowl with water, Shion was shredding the rest of his shirt into strips. Ever cautious, Nezumi observed him out of the corner of his eye, and concluded that Shion was nothing to be afraid of. He was painfully skinny, all ribs. His other distinguishing feature was a set of strange, shiny red rings – one set around his wrists and a solitary ring around his neck. If Nezumi had to guess where they came from, he would have said manacles. But why would this small, malnourished, white-haired boy have been handcuffed and chained around his neck? It made no sense.

When Nezumi brought him the basin of water, Shion carefully washed off the strips of shirt he had made.

“You made bandages,” Nezumi observed.

“Yes, but I have to wash the wound first,” said Shion.

“You want some help?” Nezumi said gruffly, thinking that it would be awfully hard to clean a wound on your own face without even being able to see it.

“Huh?”

“Give me that.” Nezumi took some of the clean fabric out of Shion’s hand. Then he carefully started wiping away the blood from Shion’s cheek. It had dripped down his neck and dried in little streams. The wound itself seemed to be quite deep, and was still bleeding – not copiously, but steadily. Although Nezumi was sure it must be painful, Shion didn’t flinch once.

Once the wound was clean, Shion folded the strips of shirt into a pad. Nezumi helped him position them over the wound, and he pressed them against his cheek, lying down as he did so.

“Thank you, Nezumi,” he said, his voice ringing hollowly with tiredness.

“Yeah,” Nezumi muttered. “Now what?

“I have to hold pressure on this for at least fifteen minutes.”

“How did you get it?” Nezumi asked. He knew he probably shouldn’t. He had learned not to question most things, especially not things he could figure out from logic or guesswork. But there was a serious dearth of information here.

Shion closed his eyes. “Escaping,” he sighed. Nezumi watched him attentively to see if he’d say anything else, but he did not. His thin chest rose and fell heavily but he made no sound.

Nezumi felt strangely protective of the thin, pathetic figure lying in his bed. As soon as he caught himself thinking _that_ , he shook his head and went outside to throw out the basin of bloody water. When he came back, Shion had not moved, but he was now sporting conspicuous goosebumps.

Feeling irrationally annoyed, Nezumi retrieved a spare shirt for Shion. He found himself reaching for the small stash of food he kept in his room, knowing that he really couldn’t spare any of it, but feeling somehow as if Shion needed it more than he did. It was just a heel of bread, a few small apples he had found in the forest, and a wedge of cheese from the rations they were officially given. He knew he shouldn’t be giving it away. And yet…

As if sensing food (or Nezumi’s hesitation), Shion opened his eyes and glanced up.

“Here, put this on,” Nezumi said, throwing the shirt at him. “And you can eat this after.” He held up the bread.

Shion’s eyes widened. “You’ll give me your food?” he said.

Nezumi snorted. “Shut up,” he said. “You think I _want_ to give this away?”

“Then why are you doing it?” Shion said hesitantly.

“That’s none of your business,” Nezumi said. Truth be told, he had no idea why he was feeding a stranger. He knew his mother would want him to, for one thing. She was always going on about how even though times were hard and their situation was bad, they shouldn’t lose their humanity, whatever that meant. His grandmother, on the other hand, thought his mother was a total idealist and with that attitude they should all be dead by now.

Nezumi privately sided with his grandmother. But Shion was outside the sphere of his normal life, was outside of any advice his family could give him. Which meant Nezumi was free to act as he wished towards him. And Nezumi’s instinct was saying, _Help him_.

Nezumi figured his instincts were no longer working. Surely there would be consequences for this.

Nezumi ground his teeth together in frustration and dumped the food roughly next to Shion’s head. Then he sat down at the end of the bed by Shion’s feet, facing away from him. He noticed that Shion was shivering more violently now, and said angrily, “I told you to put that shirt on.”

“But I can’t,” Shion protested mildly. “I can’t take pressure off my face.”

Sighing impatiently, Nezumi stood up. Shion flinched involuntarily as he approached, drawing in on himself slightly as if he were trying to press himself into the bed.

Nezumi elected to ignore that. He unfolded the blanket that was sitting at the end of the bed and draped it over Shion’s body, then sat back down again. Shion did not say anything.

The clock slowly ticked through the requisite fifteen minutes. Nezumi was trying to think, but for some reason his mind was clouded. Who was Shion? Who was he running from? Was it the No. 6 police force? Was Nezumi endangering himself? Maybe he should turn Shion in. There might even be a reward. No, No. 6 tended to kill anyone who had associated with a criminal. It was too dangerous. Was Shion dangerous? He seemed to have some kind of medical knowledge, but he hadn’t shown any signs of violence. And then there were those marks on his arms and neck. If those really _were_ from shackles… but perhaps Shion just ran away on a regular basis.

Well, he had better be good at running away from places, because there was no way he could stay here. If he thought he was moving in with Nezumi, he was mistaken. Apart from all the obvious problems with that idea, something about him irked Nezumi. What was it?

Shion sat up. Nezumi, who had been watching him out of the corners of his eyes, stared straight ahead, daring the boy to try and talk to him.

Tentatively, Shion took his hand away from his face. Under the pad of blood-soaked shirt strips, his wound seemed to have mostly stopped bleeding. Taking the remaining strips of cloth, Shion made another pad and tied it over his face. Then he picked up one of the apples.

“Nezumi…”

“What?” Nezumi snapped.

“Are you sure it’s okay if I eat this?”

“No, I’m not sure. In fact you can give my shirt back and go out in the rain again.”

Shion looked confusedly at Nezumi, then back at the apple, then up at Nezumi again. Nezumi decided that Shion was an idiot. Did he not understand obvious sarcasm?

“Just fucking eat it, Shion.”

Still looking dubious, Shion tentatively look a bite of the apple. When Nezumi continued to ignore him, he wolfed down the rest of it as fast as possible, then moved on to the next one. Soon it was gone, followed by the bread and cheese, then the last apple. Shion didn’t let a single crumb fall from his hands, leaving only the stem and seeds from the apples, piled neatly on the floor next to the bed. Nezumi almost shuddered. He knew hunger, but he wasn’t sure he knew _that_ kind of hunger.

Food finished, Shion sighed contentedly, then leaned back against the wall. A little bit of colour had returned to his pale cheeks, although he still had deep shadows under his eyes.

“Thank you, Nezumi,” he said earnestly.

“Yeah, whatever,” Nezumi said.

There was silence for a moment.

“Hey, you’re not living alone here, are you?” Shion asked.

“Of course not. I have a family.”

“There are people upstairs?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“I might be putting them in danger,” Shion said worriedly.

“You’ve managed to piss off the bigwigs in No. 6, right?”

“Well, yes, I guess.”

“Yeah, that’s nothing new,” Nezumi said dismissively. “They already hate us.”

“Why?”

“You ask too many questions,” said Nezumi.

Ah, so that was what bothered him about Shion. He knew there had had to be something. Oh, plus he was an idiot. He was trusting a total stranger. Whatever he had been through, it probably should have taught him better. Or maybe he had suffered because he was so trusting.

Shion turned questioning eyes to Nezumi, who could not help thinking that shade of lavender was quite beautiful. Those eyes, tired, guarded, hunted, were somehow enticing, captivating. Although Shion’s body was frail, his eyes glowed with some kind of strength that Nezumi didn’t quite understand. Not that he needed or wanted to, of course.

Combined with Shion’s unusual hair colour, his appearance was very striking indeed. It made Nezumi uneasy how much Shion stuck out, even though they were alone.

Something seemed to click in Shion’s mind. “This isn’t… this isn’t the labour camps, is it? Are you one of the Forest People?”

“You got me. I’m a tree-dweller,” Nezumi said. “Where did you _think_ you were?”

“I don’t know. I guess I can’t stay here, though.”

Nezumi was glad that Shion had arrived at that conclusion on his own.

“Do you want me to leave now?” Shion said, looking concerned.

“You’re going to go back out in that rain? Are you nuts?”

“It’s just rain.”

“You’re already half-drowned,” Nezumi retorted. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“So… you don’t want me to leave?”

“You can stay if you want. Until the rain stops, I mean.”

“Really?”

“What makes you think that I enjoy repeating myself?”

“Oh.”

Shion smiled, then, and Nezumi was shocked at how his face changed. It was the first emotion he had seen on Shion’s face since he had entered the room, and it was like the vitality had come out of Shion’s eyes and brought the rest of him to life.

But it was gone as swiftly as it had appeared, and Nezumi realised how blank and flat Shion’s expression was without it.

Shion looked down. “Thank you.”

“Oh, stop thanking me,” Nezumi said, slightly stunned. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Sorry.”

“And don’t apologize either, it doesn’t change anything.” That was some of the advice his grandmother had given him.

“Sor – uh, okay, Nezumi.”

Nezumi grunted in acknowledgement.

“Hey, is it okay if I go to sleep here?” Shion said.

“Sure.”

Shion sighed silently, as if he were releasing all the tension from his body. He was starting to shiver again, though, and Nezumi wondered if he might be getting sick, from the rain, or from his wound. Nezumi put his forehead against Shion’s and found that he was quite a bit warmer than he should have been. Unfortunately, Nezumi didn’t have any medicine anyway.

“You’ve got a fever,” he informed Shion.

“It’s okay, I’ll sleep it off,” Shion said, lying down.

Nezumi hopped up, turned the light off, and stretched down beside him, facing him. Fortunately, the bed was big enough for both of them, but only just.

Feeling a gentle pressure on his palm, Nezumi looked down. Shion was sliding his fingers into Nezumi’s hand. Nezumi let him lace their fingers together, then put his other hand on top of their clasped ones.

“Living people are warm,” Shion murmured.

“Huh?”

But Shion, eyes closed, did not reply. His breathing quickly slowed and deepened. Although half of his face was obscured by bandages, Nezumi could see that his expression had relaxed; his face was no longer blank, but instead, calm.

Nezumi closed his eyes. The sound of Shion’s breathing was soothing, as was his warmth. Before Nezumi knew it, he, too, was drifting off to sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, Shion was gone. The shirt that Nezumi had lent him was gone with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: This awesome picture drawn by [Ahikuboruchi](http://ahikuboruchi.tumblr.com/) who is an absolutely amazing friend and amazing artist!
> 
> \---
> 
> Well guys, this is going to be an adventure. 
> 
> First, the characterization is going to be what makes or breaks this thing, and lemme tell ya, it ain't the easy part either. L'il AU Nezumi is quite a tsundere, isn't he? Just so everyone knows what they're in for, I'll give you a warning about what they'll be like in later chapters: 
> 
> Nezumi still burns with hatred for No. 6, although as he’s just separated from his family by space and not by death he’s a lot less fearful of others. He is still very closed off, but not so fanatically. Still a sarcastic, snarky bastard. Although he still has a façade of strength, it’s less of a lie, because he’s lost less. Although Shion scares him, he won’t be the one leaving at the end of the book. (Although he may leave somewhere in the middle...)
> 
> As for Shion, Shion is complicated. When Shion is with people other than Nezumi, he displays a very flat, closed-off aspect. He does incredibly kind and self-sacrificing things, but he does them emotionlessly, as if they mean nothing. He can also tear someone down in seconds as if means nothing. His time at the facility made him extremely observant and resourceful. He hoards knowledge, items, favours. He doesn’t usually resort to physical violence unless someone triggers him. If he’s around Nezumi but not talking to Nezumi, his face falls back into the blank aspect, or if he’s /really/ engrossed in something, he’ll make scary faces – either angry or afraid. He’s just wearing a mask of blankness. The real Shion is locked inside his own head under a layer of horrible memories. 
> 
> FAIR WARNING: Shion is really, really messed up. If you don't want to read about traumatized Shion, this is not the fic for you. Now, I don't do anything disturbing to him (except making him go back to the CF, of course). But he _will_ be put in situations that demonstrate his less stable qualities during this story. By which I mean, he'll have extremely intense panic attacks and such. However, the POV never switches into his mind. All these things will be read about from Nezumi's perspective.
> 
> There you have it.  
> This follows the plot of the novel, for the most part. There will be fluff, but no smut.  
> Also, if you're worried about the "graphic violence" warning - well, if you can handle the novel, then you can probably handle this.


	2. Flight for Life

Four years later.

It was autumn again. The work day was over, so Nezumi and his sister, Izanami, were picking apples together at the edge of the forest. She climbed the trees; he collected the apples she handed down to him. They had a little garden of their own that they cultivated when they could, but it was hard to keep it up as well as doing all the other household chores. The wild apples grew without needing much tending, so they had become a staple of Nezumi’s diet. 

“Hey, Nezumi,” Izanami said teasingly. She was thirteen now, lively and cheerful in spite of the hard work they had to do every day. Nezumi was fiercely protective of her, although she probably didn’t know it. 

“Yeah?”

“What are you thinking about? You don’t look tired enough for that frown. Lighten up!” she laughed.

“I’m not –” Nezumi began, before realising that she was right, he had been scowling at the basket he was holding. Why was that? He frowned deeper, trying to figure it out. 

Ah, yes, he knew why. It was apple season. Around this time four years ago, he had welcomed a strange boy into his home and given him some of the apples from the very same tree his sister was currently picking from. 

Nezumi shook his head. He had never learned the reason for Shion’s sudden appearance and disappearance from his life, though he had never forgotten it either. He had tried to figure it out before. But it didn’t do to dwell on memories, especially when he was supposed to be getting work done. 

“I think you were just spacing out,” Izanami said, handing him three apples. Nezumi inspected each of them for worm holes before putting them into his basket. 

“I do not ‘space out,’” he said indignantly. 

“You do too.”

“No, I don’t. I think about things. There’s a difference.”

“Oh yeah? Then what were you thinking about?”

There was no way Nezumi was going to tell her that he was thinking about a criminal he’d sheltered without her knowledge four years ago. She’d ask a million questions, and complain, and just generally get on his nerves. If she thought he was going to give her details, she could think again. 

“None of your business.”

“Aww, Nezumi, you’re no fun!” she said, handing him another handful of apples and climbing over to the other side of the tree. Nezumi obligingly followed her with the basket, which was half-full at this point. Good. It would be dark in an hour, and they had to get back to the house before the curfew, which was sundown.

“That’s something I haven’t heard before,” Nezumi said, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s because it’s true. Come on, now. Secrets, secrets are no fun, unless they’re shared with everyone,” Izanami said in a singsong voice. 

Oh no. Nezumi had a bad feeling she wasn’t going to let the matter drop. Better make up something, quick.

He sighed. “Don’t you wish we didn’t have to do this?”

“What?” She peered down at him inquisitively, looking concerned at his sudden seriousness. 

“This is fucking stupid. We used to own these trees, and now we have to have a permit to pick from them, and a time limit to do it in. I hate this. I hate No. 6. Don’t you?”

Izanami bit her lip, looking around warily as if expecting some kind of spy to pop out of one of the other trees around them. 

“Nezumi, shhhh, or I’ll throw this apple at you,” she said playfully. Nezumi knew that she knew how much he hated No. 6, and that she was trying to get him to calm down, but once he had started talking about it, it was hard for him to stop. 

“We’re in the middle of the woods. No prissy No. 6 policeman is going to come arrest us out here. I can say whatever I want. And what I want is to burn the whole city to the ground.”

“Shhh!”

“It’s alright for you, because you don’t even remember what it was like when we didn’t live like this. They burned our village down. We’re just lucky they didn’t burn us with it!”

“Nezumi, shut up! Don’t you know people have been disappearing?” 

That remark caught him off guard. “What?” he said, squinting up at her. She shook her head, eyes round. 

“Tell me what’s going on.”

Izanami looked uneasy. She handed him an apple, then shimmied deftly out of the tree and stood in front of him, arms crossed. There were more apples in the tree that she could have picked, but he wasn’t worried about that right now. 

_People disappearing? What? Why haven’t I heard of this? What the hell is going on?_

A twinge of unease stirred in Nezumi’s belly. 

“I overheard Mom and Dad talking about it,” she whispered, leaning towards him conspiratorially. “Apparently pairs of guards have come and taken away three people over the last three months with no explanation. They took away Yamase – you know, he hated No. 6 too – but they also took Ren and Ei, and they never said anything bad about anyone, not even the city.”

“One per month,” Nezumi murmured. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all. What if they came for his sister? His mother? He didn’t even want to think about what they might actually be doing to these people. 

“Yeah. So keep your voice down, please…” 

She looked worried. Nezumi felt bad. 

“Yeah, okay,” Nezumi said. “Okay. Do you want to finish this tree and move on to another one?”

Izanami inspected the basket. 

“Don’t you think we have enough?”

“Are you trying to get out of finishing this?”

“What? No!” she laughed. “But remember, the more we put in there, the more you’ll have to carry.”

“Me, carry a whole basket by myself? Why, I don’t think my poor tired arms could take such a strain. You do it.”

“You’re bigger than me,” she protested. “I worked just as much as you did today.”

Nezumi knew it was true. He grinned, and was about to make a sarcastic retort, when he heard footfalls behind him. 

Both he and his sister turned towards the direction of the sound. Just in case, Nezumi shifted his body very slightly so that he was positioned protectively in front of her. 

Two men emerged in front of them. They were clearly guards from No. 6; they had the right uniforms and matching threatening expressions, but something about them was different. Was it the extra set of guns they each were sporting? Or the fact that they had actually entered the forest, a place most men from No. 6 dared not go? 

“You,” the right one said to Nezumi. “Are you NXS-103221?”

They called him by his identification number, which he hated. 

“Yes,” he said curtly. If Nezumi had his way, he wouldn’t have to give these men the time of day. But he knew that if he didn’t respond to them, he could get in serious trouble.

“We’re here to inform you that you’ve now been designated VC103221. You are to come with us immediately.”

“What?” Nezumi said in outrage. He had just been designated a violent criminal? Why? Had they overheard the conversation with Izanami? 

Izanami. He shifted towards her reflexively. 

“Put the basket down and step away from the girl,” the other guard said, his hand on his pistol. Nezumi glanced at his sister. Her hands were balled into fists. 

“ _Run_ ,” he said, his voice low, quiet and loose like a breeze that slipped into her ears. She gave a tiny shake of her head. 

He shoved the basket of apples at her. “ _Get out of here._ ”

Nezumi knew what his sister was thinking. There were only two guards. There was a chance they could fight back. But they had guns – real ones, not just stun guns. 

The right-hand guard calmly pulled his pistol from its holster and pointed it at Nezumi. 

“I said step away from the girl,” he said evenly. 

_Shit._

“Now.” 

Nezumi heard the sound of a pistol being cocked. 

Slowly, he put down the basket and turned back to the guards, holding his hands up. 

The guard who was not pointing a gun at them said, “Now, girlie, you run along home. If you don’t, we’ll shoot your brother here. Don’t tell anyone what happened to him, or we’ll come get you, too.”

Nezumi heard her gasp, then the sound of crunching leaves as Izanami slowly backed away into the woods. Thank goodness. At least she would be safe, even though it looked like he himself was in very big trouble. 

Could he take down two men who were bigger than him at once? Yes. But not while they were holding guns. 

There was nothing Nezumi could do as his hands were handcuffed behind his back. He felt the pistol prod his back. 

“We’re going this way. Start walking.”

Nezumi did as he was told. He tried to walk as slowly as possible, glancing behind him every time he could, trying to look for an opening where he could dive into the forest and run. 

Just as he was about to try his luck, he heard the click of the second pistol behind him, and one of the guards say, “We won’t kill you, but we will cripple you. So don’t get any ideas, boy.”

Nezumi couldn’t risk that; being crippled would likely lead to a fate worse than death. So he did nothing.

They arrived at a road. Parked at the side of the road was a car, with a driver waiting inside. One of the guards shoved Nezumi roughly into the backseat, and then slid in beside him. The other guard got in the other side so that Nezumi was sandwiched between them. At this close range, they didn’t both need to have their guns out. The one on the right held his gun to Nezumi’s ribs, while the one on the left put his in its holster.

Shit. What was he supposed to do now? How was he going to get away from this? Cold sweat trickled down Nezumi’s back. His heart was starting to pound, but he was trying to stay calm. 

“All set?” said the driver. 

“Yeah, move out,” said the guard who was not pointing a gun at Nezumi. 

As they started driving down the road, Nezumi licked his lips nervously. “Where are you taking me?” he asked, though he thought he already knew. The Correctional Facility. This was a dangerous, almost mythical place. Everyone knew that violent criminals went to the Correctional Facility – the guards at the logging plant warned the Forest People that they might be sent there all the time. It was said to be a place of absolute suffering – and that once you went in, you never came out. Now that he had been designed a VC, Nezumi couldn’t think of anywhere else they might be going. But maybe he could get some other information out of these men that might help him escape.

“Shaddup,” said the guard with the gun. “You’re a prisoner, you’re going to prison. It’s not that difficult a concept. Now don’t ask any more questions or I’ll have to gag you.”

Nezumi didn’t want that. He fell silent. At least they had confirmed his suspicions, sort of. But he hadn’t learned anything else that might help him escape. 

_Think, dammit, think!_

There was nothing he could do with this gun pointed at his head. Besides, even if he overpowered the guard with the gun, the other one could easily draw on him in the meantime. He would have to sit tight and wait. There was nothing else to do. 

Just as Nezumi was resigning himself to being escorted to the Correctional Facility by force (thank goodness Izanami, at least, had escaped), the car skidded to a stop. On the road in front of them, about fifty paces away, was a wood-chipping machine. 

_What?_

These big, heavy machines were a staple of the logging plant Nezumi and his family were forced to work at. They were used to turn plant debris into the materials for fibreboard. That was easy enough to understand. But why the hell was one out here on a road in the middle of nowhere? The road was bordered by trees, sure, but they were heading away from the logging plant, not towards it. Seeing it out here was like seeing a bird nesting underwater. 

“What the hell?” the driver said. 

The two guards in the backseat glanced at each other. 

“I’ll check it out,” said the one who wasn’t holding the gun. 

“Roger,” said the other one calmly. The first guard got out of the car and started walking towards the machine. 

As he reached it, someone tapped on the back windshield. The driver glanced in the rear-view mirror, and the Nezumi and the guard beside him craned their necks to see what was there. Nezumi saw a flash of… white?

With a loud crash, the glass of the window beside the vacant seat on Nezumi’s left shattered. A round green object was thrown into the backseat. All three occupants of the car stared stupidly at it for a moment before it exploded, filling the car with thick, green smoke. 

“Shit!”

Nezumi closed his eyes, coughing. He was blinded and could barely breathe, but he was filled with a sense of terrible urgency – to get away, because this was a heaven-sent chance, and there would be no other. Suddenly, he felt someone on his left pulling hard on his arm, and he instinctively resisted, shoving the guard next to him into the door. Thankfully, his gun was lowered, but the man cursed, coughing, and slammed the butt of the gun down on Nezumi’s ribs. The hand from the left tugged harder, and this time Nezumi let himself be pulled across the seat and out of the car, where he staggered and fell to the ground. He opened his eyes and saw only the pair of hands that was pulling him upright, tugging at his arms, trying to get him to move. 

“Come on, Nezumi!” he heard a voice say. Then he was being towed along by the elbow, dragged away from the car, which was issuing green smoke from the open door he had just come from and rocking on its axles as the two men inside clawed at their eyes and fought with the door handles. The guard who had gone to investigate the wood chipping machine was running back towards the car, his gun at the ready, but he hadn’t seen Nezumi or his rescuer through the green smoke-screen. 

“Come on!” said the rescuer, and Nezumi, who was frantically blinking his watering eyes, saw again a flash of white hair. 

_Could it be? Shion?_

Now that he had his breath back, Nezumi started running, needing no more urging. The two of them pelted headlong down the road, flying for their very lives. Suddenly, he was pulled off the road, where a car that he could have sworn had not been there when they passed by earlier was waiting. 

The person behind him opened the passenger’s side door and shoved him roughly in, where he floundered around for a moment, hands still cuffed. By the time he was sitting properly in his seat, they were driving off down the road in the opposite direction to the one he had been traveling in. 

Hardly daring to believe it, he turned his head to the driver. 

It was Shion. 

“Wh –” Nezumi attempted to ask. Instead, he broke out into a fit of coughing. 

“Some water should clear that up, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait,” Shion said calmly, lavender eyes fixed on the road in front of them. Eyes watering, Nezumi glanced at the speedometer. Were they really driving at 120 kmh? On this road? 

Going so fast, every bump in the road and every corner they turned was magnified for Nezumi, who was not wearing a seatbelt. He jolted around, trying to remain upright and also to breathe.

When Nezumi had gotten his breath back enough to speak, he choked out, “Where are we going?”

This time, it was a fair question. He truly had no idea where this madman was taking him. 

 

“We’re taking this car far away. And then we’re walking home,” Shion said. 

Well that made sense. They couldn’t just drive straight to their destination, unless they wanted to double their chances of being caught.

“Home? Where’s home?”

“The West Block.”

The West Block. As far as Nezumi knew, the West Block was the slum district of No. 6, just outside its wall. Not only was it crowded, filthy, and noisy, but it was even more dangerous than the labour camps in which he lived. In fact, the labour camps were relatively safe, because they were patrolled by guards at all hours. The only danger was angering one of them and getting yourself bayonetted. The West Block was said to be a haven of crime of all kinds. Nezumi was somewhat used to violence, but it was the kind of violence that came from the grating of an oppressed group against its aggressors, not the survival-of-the-fittest type of violence common in the West Block. 

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, he supposed, and felt disgusted at himself for the cliché. He wondered if Shion intended to offer him shelter or if he was going to push him out into the street – free but helpless. 

“I hope you know how to get me out of these handcuffs.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll just pick the locks.”

Nezumi knew a little something about picking locks, but he couldn’t very well do it behind his back. 

“Let’s hope it’s soon,” he grumbled. 

“Yep, we’re almost there.”

True to his word, in a matter of minutes Shion had slowed the car. Suddenly, he swerved off the road and drove it into the ditch beside the road. 

“Are you insane?” Nezumi yelled, pitching forward in his seat and narrowly avoiding smacking his head on the windshield. 

Shion did not reply. He hopped out of the car, opened Nezumi’s door, and helped him get out. 

“Hold still,” Shion said. Nezumi felt Shion take his hands, then heard some metallic clicking. One of his wrists was freed, then the other. Shion tossed the cuffs into the car through the still-open door. Nezumi started rubbing his wrists, grateful that they were finally free. 

“Nezumi. You haven’t got an identity card of any kind, have you?” Shion asked. 

“Oh – yeah. Why?”

“It’s got a tracker in it. We have to leave it here.” 

So _that_ was how those guards had been able to find him in the forest. 

Nezumi retrieved the card from his pocket. “You can have it. I don’t want it,” he said. The identity card was used only to harass and antagonize its bearer. Nezumi had no personal need of it. He couldn’t care less what happened to that horrible piece of plastic. 

“Throw it into the woods on the other side of the road,” Shion instructed him. Nezumi did as he was told, throwing the card as far as he possibly could. He didn’t see where it landed. 

It was as he and Shion began to walk into the forest that he remembered how tired he was. The sun had fallen below the treeline, and his entire body felt stiff and cold. His lower back hurt from being jolted around in the car, and his ribs ached where the guard had hit him with the gun. He wasn’t sure how Shion knew which way he was going, especially as it was getting harder and harder to see two feet in front of him. 

He still hadn’t gotten a proper look at Shion, but he had heard his voice – and it was the same as it had been four years ago. Although Shion sounded slightly older, he didn’t sound any less hollow. As he had four years ago, Nezumi wondered what had happened to Shion to make him this way. And actually, now that he thought about it, there were a lot more unanswered questions here…

“Shion, why did you rescue me?”

“I owed you.”

That made sense to Nezumi. He had probably saved Shion’s life four years ago, after all. 

“But how did you know I was in danger?”

“I keep track of what they’re up too. No. 6. When I heard they were disappearing Forest People, I made sure to find out who was next. You’re lucky, though. They planned to get you next week. I don’t know what forced their hand. But I was paying attention.”

That was the longest speech Nezumi had ever heard Shion make. If he didn’t know better from the sound of Shion’s flat voice, he would have said that Shion was proud of himself for getting there on time. Or perhaps he really was grateful for their luck. Or both. 

Nezumi knew he should thank Shion for rescuing him… but then again, they weren’t out of the woods yet. Literally. 

He refused to ask a stupid question like ‘how far is it.’ There was no choice but to keep going anyway. They walked, and walked, and walked, and Nezumi didn’t realise how dazed he was until he almost fell over a tree root. 

“Are you okay?” Shion said. 

“I’m fine,” Nezumi said, annoyed. But when he started walking again, he found that every step jarred his legs all the way up to the hip. 

Shion, who was standing ahead of him, held out his hand. Nezumi stared at it blankly for a minute. Shion was offering to hold his hand? Bullshit, he didn’t need help. Or to have his hand held like a little girl. He was used to walking distances greater than this, just not after a long day of work, being marched through another forest, and then having his ass bruised black and blue by a maniac driving a shitty car on a winding road. 

Sensing Nezumi’s hesitation, Shion said in a low voice, “Nezumi, I’m tired too.”

Nezumi peered at Shion’s face, trying to read an emotion there. Nothing. But still that hand was extended to him, unwavering. 

He took it. 

They walked on side by side. 

The feel of Shion’s warm, slightly work-roughened hand in his own was incredibly familiar, as if he had welcomed Shion in out of the rain yesterday, not four years ago. As if he had gotten up in the morning with Shion and run away with him, rather than spending four years of his life working himself to the bone. Suddenly, Nezumi had the urge to laugh. Instead of being confined, he had escaped. 

But what about his family? Most importantly, what about his sister? What would happen to them now that he was gone? He hoped they’d be able to get enough food without him, wondered if there would be repercussions for them because of his disappearance, and hoped not. He’d have to ask Shion to keep an eye on them for him. 

Nezumi felt guilty for enjoying his own freedom when his family was still trapped. Something had to be done. And now that he was out from under the scrutinizing eyes of the labour camp guards, perhaps something _could_ be done…

Before Nezumi could start to formulate some kind of plan, they had arrived at the edge of the forest. Before them was a wide, flat, empty plain. Beyond that was a ramshackle town, which looked as though it had been thrown together from cardboard and twine – the West Block. Behind the West Block rose the wall of No. 6, staggering in its immense height, seemingly impenetrable. Although the West Block was a mess of iron and mud, to Nezumi it looked like a haven, a warren he could bury himself in to hide away for as long as he wanted. 

Shion squeezed his hand. Startled, Nezumi glanced at him, and was surprised to see Shion’s eyes gleam with an unusual contented peace. Wondering if Shion had been uneasy to be away from the West Block, which was his home after all, Nezumi felt suddenly grateful. 

“Shion?”

“Mm?”

Nezumi hesitated, feeling as if he should say thank you, but strangely unwilling to do so. 

“Is this it?”

“Mmhmm. This is West Block.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Izanami is Nezumi's little sister. Why did I pick that name? Because:  
> a) It has a lot of the same letters as "Nezumi"  
> b) It's from the myth of Izanami and Izanagi, which is a Japanese creation myth in which both parties descend to the underworld  
> c) Izanami & Izanagi are siblings, so this gives a theoretical name for Nezumi as well (although evidently I couldn't rename him, even though it would've been logical to do so)  
> d) The people on the [No. 6 forum](http://no6.createaforum.com/index.php) liked it. 
> 
> The only bad part about this name is that Izanami and Izanagi also had an incestuous relationship, which evidently I am NOT going to be writing about. But I suppose it's a subtle nod to the fact that Izanami is taking Safu's role in the story, sort-of. 
> 
> Oh, I forgot to say in the beginning. As well as following the plot of the novel, I also tried to alter my writing style so that it was more similar to [9th Ave's novel translation](http://9th-ave.blogspot.com/p/no-6.html). Do I think I succeeded? Vaguely.


	3. Of Fathomless Terror

The inside of Shion’s house was very simple, sparse, and clean, although it was small. It seemed to be the basement of an abandoned building of some kind. Like Nezumi’s basement, it had running water (which wasn’t drinkable), but no electricity. Instead, Shion lit an old gas lamp when they came inside. Even in his exhausted state, Nezumi made himself take in his surroundings, in case they were important later. 

There were two rooms: the main sleeping room, and a separate room for a toilet, a sink, and a shower. The main room contained one bed, a very hard and lumpy-looking couch set before a table, a chest of drawers, a wood-burning stove, and a desk with a chair in front of it. All of the furniture had been mended very meticulously by someone, probably Shion. The place gave off an air of worn pride. But like Shion himself, it was relatively blank, giving few clues to its owner’s personality. All the furniture was arranged along the walls, to maximize the open space in the centre of the room. Why? Who knew.

Three little mice were sitting on the table when they came in. Shion greeted them all by their names; those were details Nezumi didn’t care much about, though he was vaguely surprised by their presence. He didn’t really think that Shion was the type for pets. But as long as Shion wasn’t hiding something else, like a German Shepherd or a boa constrictor, he didn’t think he cared how many mice there were. 

“We’ll share the bed, if that’s okay,” Shion said, looking fondly at one of the mice he had cupped in his hand, which he began to pet gently. The other two were perched on his shoulders. “The couch is rather uncomfortable.”

Nezumi almost protested, but quickly changed his mind. If he said no, it would probably be him sleeping on the couch, and he didn’t want that. He stripped to his boxers and shirt, and climbed into bed. Shion released all three mice and reproachfully picked up the clothing Nezumi had dropped, folding it and putting it on the table. Then he himself undressed and curled up beside Nezumi, blowing out the light. 

Although Nezumi should have instantly fallen asleep, he didn’t. He was so tired he could barely move, but his instincts knew that he was in an unfamiliar location, and they didn’t want him to let his guard down for long enough to sleep. The bed underneath him was moulded to fit someone else’s body, and it creaked when he moved, making little twanging noises as the ancient springs contracted slowly. Shion breathed very quietly, and that didn’t bother Nezumi, but Shion was also a restless sleeper, and there wasn’t enough room in the bed for him to turn around every five minutes, as he was attempting to do.

The rats skittered across the table every now and then. Nezumi was not pleased. 

There was no way to tell how long he had been lying there, silently fuming on the edge of consciousness, but he gradually became aware that something was wrong with his back. 

Nezumi was used to all kinds of muscle injuries, from strains to sprains. This was different from anything he’d experienced before – it wasn’t a dull ache, or stabs of pain triggered by motion, it was waves. His back was aching for no apparent reason, just inside of his shoulder blades. 

A strange buzzing was ringing in his ears. 

Now this was just too much. Nezumi sat up angrily, intending to find and crush the source of the noise, when a pang of intense, white-hot pain shot through his head like an arrow. Involuntarily, he cried out. 

This woke Shion, who was up and at Nezumi’s side in an instant. 

“Nezumi, what’s wrong?”

Nezumi didn’t know if he could answer. The buzzing intensified, accompanied by a voice, a high, piercing, keening voice, singing a single note that wavered in and out. There was also a thumping noise – the beating of wings? 

Dimly, Nezumi realised that he was drenched in sweat. He clutched his head. His back was throbbing and burning so much he could feel the heat on the back of his neck. He began to tear at his clothes, afraid that they might be on fire. Suddenly he fell back onto the bed, rolling around in a desperate attempt to smother the flames licking his back and brain with their vicious, searing tongues. 

_It hurts, it hurts, it hurts._

Was he still screaming? He couldn’t hear anything over the buzzing and the keening, which climbed higher and higher, driving sharp stakes into his brain. He had never experienced such pain before. Bile and blood filled his mouth, and spilled over his lips onto the floor. 

Perhaps it was the delirium, but in all of the noise, Nezumi began to hear a quiet voice speaking to him. A terrible voice. It crawled in through his mind on tiny, icy toes, delicately bruising the inside of his ears and pressing itself into his bones. 

_Elyurias is arming her children. They will be born in blood, as she was borne in blood. Born in blood, born in blood, born in blood._

Nezumi was falling down through a great, vast darkness. All sound was fading away, including the terrible voice. He wanted to live, but he didn’t want to go back to the pain and fire he had just fallen through. But in his confused, pained state, he didn’t know if he would make up his mind before he hit the ground. 

Abruptly, his fall was halted, by someone who was pulling him up by the hair. At first he was relieved, but as he felt a thick, bitter liquid being poured down his throat, he began to feel the pain in his back slowly flooding back in waves. It bore down on him for a moment, then let go, then rushed back in ten times more strongly than before. He moaned listlessly. 

“Keep your eyes open,” he was commanded. Then he was staring into the gaze of lavender, lavender eyes, which were intense, almost angry, piercing. They wouldn’t let him go. _Why won’t you let me go?_

“It hurts… it hurts so bad…”

The buzzing was back. The buzzing and the keening. Piercing his head like poisoned arrows. _Oh, God, make it stop._

“I said, keep your eyes open!” 

Nezumi felt himself being slapped sharply across the face. Shion sounded… afraid. _Afraid? Shion? Shion afraid? No. No, no, no, no, no._

_Buzz, buzz buzz._

Shudders racked Nezumi’s body. A scream tore through his throat. 

“Good. Scream. You’re still here, Nezumi. Stay! Stay with me. Just keep your eyes open, I’m begging you.”

Nezumi squeezed his fists tightly, barely realizing that he was holding one of Shion’s hands again. Something real to hold onto, yes. 

“What’s happening?” he choked out. 

Shion’s voice was calmer now. “You seem to be pupating. Don’t worry, it should be over soon.”

The words made no sense. Were bugs coming out of his back? Was that what Shion was saying? Why wasn’t Shion doing something? Nezumi didn’t understand. Was he going to die? Maybe it would be better than this terrible pain. He knew he should fight, but it was so hard…

“Shion – You – I – I can’t –” Nezumi groaned. 

_Give me something to hold on too…_

“Nezumi, you can’t give up. Do you want your sister to cry about you, Nezumi? Do you want your okaasan and your obaasan to cry? What about me? I didn’t rescue you for nothing. This pain would be a thousand times worse if you were in the Correctional Facility right now. Nezumi, answer me!”

“The Correctional Facility.” Nezumi violently spat out the words as if they were barbs caught in his throat. Had No. 6 done this to him? He would make them pay for this, every single one. 

“No, not while you’re safe here with me.”

_Safe… with… Shion…_

_Buzz, buzz, buzz._

_Born in blood, they’re born in blood, they’re born in blood…_

Spots began dancing over his eyes.

“No!” Nezumi yelled, clenching his fists tighter. He shut his eyes and tried to cover his ears with his arms.

“Nezumi!”

His eyelids fluttered.

Now there were four pairs of purple eyes looking into his. One was human and anxious, coloured lilac. The other three were small and grape-coloured. They belonged to the mice. 

“Shion…”

“Yes?”

“How do you… you know… the Correctional Facility… inside…”

Shion didn’t immediately respond. 

“I’ll tell you when you’re better. That’s something to look forward to. It can be your get-well present.”

Nezumi coughed violently. He retched again, losing whatever it was he had just been fed. Was the pain getting worse? He couldn’t tell. 

Shion fed him the bitter liquid several more times. Each time, he dozed lightly and fitfully afterwards before throwing it up again. He was feverish, sweating heavily and constantly. It felt like all the water in his body was trying to escape from his pores. 

He begged Shion for water. It was given to him. The cool draught soothing his ragged throat. Even in his half-sleep he could taste blood and acid. 

Finally, the buzzing faded from his ears. His back still throbbed, feeling painfully tight and raw. But at least his mind was empty. His tremors subsided. Nezumi realised that there were tears sliding down his face because he could taste the salt on his tongue. He was holding Shion’s hand again, tightly enough to bruise.

“Shion,” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“Can I sleep now?” he said. He was so, so, desperately tired. His bones felt as though they had been hollowed out and filled with lead; heavy, poisonous, cloying, sweet.

“Look at me once more.”

Though his eyes were aching to close, Nezumi did as Shion asked. Shion stared into his face for what seemed like an eternity before saying, “Okay. It’s safe now. You’ve done very well, Nezumi. You can sleep now. I’ll be here by your side.”

Shion was gently stroking his hair. Nezumi let himself focus on that feeling as he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was hard to write, I'm not going to lie. I tried to combine Shion's canonical transformation with Nezumi's little breakdown while dressed as Eve, and got this. If it has one flaw, I'd say it's too short. 
> 
> ~~Guys, from this point forward, there's no going back. I really need some feedback. If I give Nezumi bee wings, are you all going to quit reading in disgust? Or do people want to see him fly? Tell me! Thank you!~~
> 
> Someone commented and told me that was a bad idea. So, I'll post the bee wing thing as a separate fic some other time. Hooray!


	4. Of Life And Death

The next morning, Nezumi woke up in a great deal of pain. 

It wasn’t the same pain as the torture he had experienced last night. It was far more bearable, though Nezumi wasn’t inclined to be in a good mood about it. He found that he was lying on his side in bed, but the sheets had completely changed from the night before. Probably because he had thrown up all over the last ones. He was surprised that Shion (who was nowhere in sight) had managed to change them without waking him. 

With a jolt, he remembered some of Shion’s words from the night before. “ _You’re pupating…_ ”

Tentatively, Nezumi sat up, finding that his whole body was sore, as if he had been chopping trees down all night instead of having some kind of seizure. He leaned back against his pillow. The second he put pressure on his back, he had to lean forward and hunch over his knees instead. It felt as though he had managed to take all the skin off of his back, leaving it very swollen and tender.

Apart from that, his throat was absolutely raw. He coughed, trying to summon up some saliva to moisten his parched mouth, and got a glob of bloody snot in his mouth for his troubles. This he reflexively spat onto the floor. Whoops.

Now he had to find water to drink, a cloth to clean the floor with, and a mirror so he could see the damage to his back. Thinking about his back gave Nezumi a vague sense of dread, but he tried to ignore it. 

There was a chittering sound. One of the mice – the black-furred one – was sitting up on the table, its whiskery little nose twitching anxiously. 

“What are you looking at?” Nezumi asked it. It chirped in a friendly sort of way. 

He noticed that Shion had left a glass of water on the table beside the mouse. Thank goodness. There was also a small heel of bread. Nezumi didn’t know if it was for him or not, but he was going to eat it anyway because he was starving.

Nezumi shook his head and slowly clambered out of bed. Standing wasn’t fun, but at least he was alive. He was starting to wonder exactly how close to death he had come the night before. The details were hazy in his mind, but he knew that Shion had been by his side the whole time. Shion had saved him. Nezumi gritted his teeth. Now he owed Shion instead of the other way around. 

What kind of person was Shion? Was he the kind of person it was dangerous to owe? Nezumi realised how little he knew about the boy, and could have kicked his younger self for not interrogating him properly all those years ago. Picking up the water, he examined his surroundings again, hoping they would give him some more clues as to Shion’s personality and history. He found a few details he had missed the night before. An analogue clock on the wall. A shelf underneath it, with quite a few books on it. For some reason they were stacked vertically instead of lined up properly, even though there was extra room on the shelf. Beside them was what looked like a first-aid kit. Perhaps that had been where whatever Shion had given him last night had come from. 

There was also a full-length mirror hanging on the far wall. After draining the glass dry and nearly inhaling the bread, Nezumi walked unsteadily over to it. He saw first that he was wearing a shirt that was slightly too small, meaning it was not his own, and felt uneasy again. 

Nezumi peeled off the shirt. There were bandages wrapped around his entire torso, from just below the hip all the way up to his collarbones. With fingers that were _absolutely not_ shaking with nervousness, Nezumi began unwrapping the bandages around his body, letting them fall around his feet in a giant coil. 

The first thing he noticed was a series of strange, discoloured patches of skin on his abdomen. They were like stripes, three of them, mottled black-ish purple-ish, like permanent bruises. They contrasted vividly with his normally pale skin. He ran his thumbs over one of them and found that it was rough to the touch. Was this why Shion had bandaged him? Surely not. The stripes were too low on his torso to warrant bandaging him all the way up to the shoulders. Then again, there was a large bruise just under his heart, where he had been hit by the butt of a gun yesterday. It was quite impressive – a stormcloud of black and purple, very tender to the touch.

But what about his back?

He turned around. 

On his back were even stranger markings – thick black lines of skin, about a centimetre across, which issued from each shoulder blade and radiated outward. At first, Nezumi had trouble telling exactly what they reminded of, before he realised that they almost – almost – looked like wings. Albeit ones ingrained into his skin. 

Reaching up to touch them, Nezumi found that they were slightly raised, but there was no way to know if that inflammation was permanent, as they were still tender to the touch, though not as much as the bruise on his ribs. He noted also that the stripes visible on his stomach also circled around his back. 

_You’re pupating…_

Bee wings. 

The things on his abdomen could only be bee stripes.

He swallowed. 

There was a growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. 

“Shit!” Nezumi said. His heart was racing, and he could feel his breathing rate picking up, which was making him angry, because it meant he was losing control.

How had this happened? Was No. 6 responsible for this somehow? Had Shion known this would happen? Had anything else about him changed? Would more changes take place? 

He recalled some other words from last night. 

_Elyurias is arming her children_

Who the hell was Elyurias?

_Born in blood, they’re born in blood._

Was that referring to “her people?” Or was Elyurias a group instead of an individual? 

“Goddamnit,” Nezumi spat. He punched the wall next to the mirror and leaned heavily forward, pressing his forehead into the cool concrete

He heard the door open and close behind him, and spun around. Shion had entered the room, carrying a basket which contained the sheets Nezumi had nearly destroyed last night, now freshly laundered. Shion and Nezumi’s eyes locked, and Shion quickly set down the basket. 

Tentatively, he approached Nezumi. 

Shion opened his mouth to say something, but before he could do so, Nezumi had grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall, pinning him there. Shion’s face went white and his eyes opened wide; Nezumi could feel Shion’s pulse beating triple time against his hand. But he made no sound, nor did he struggle. 

“What is this,” Nezumi growled. Shion didn’t reply. “What the fuck have you done to me?”

Shion pressed his lips together and shook his head. He looked as if he were about to pass out. _What a weakling._

“Shion, tell me what the fuck is going on, or I’ll strangle you to death, I swear I will. Speak!”

“N- N- Nezumi, I – I can’t –” Shion whimpered. 

“Can’t fucking _what_?” 

“I didn’t, I didn’t do this, I –”

“But you know how it happened, don’t you?”

Shion took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and yelled, “I didn’t do this to you, but I’ve seen it happen to Forest People before, and I’ll tell you everything I know, but first you have to let go of me because if you don’t I’m going to pass out or throw up and I don’t have time to clean up another mess!”

Nezumi, startled, stared at him for a minute before relaxing his grip and stepping away. Staggering back, Shion braced himself against the wall.

_What the hell? I thought he would be stronger than this._

Shion had reacted with intense fear to what Nezumi considered a minor assault. Why? 

He nudged Shion with his elbow. 

“Out with it,” he said grimly. 

Shion looked up at him. Although his face was still pale, it was perfectly composed again. It was almost as if nothing had happened. But Nezumi realised with a jolt that Shion’s hands were trembling.

“When I was in the Correctional Facility, I only met two Forest People. Within three days of their being brought in, they pupated exactly the same way that you did. The first guy, he grew real wings, not just those markings you have. They kept him for two years doing tests and he didn’t change any more. The second one, he had something else entirely – I think he grew a stinger, in his wrist. They only kept him for a week, but he didn’t change at all during that time either. I didn’t know this would happen to you. But now that I’ve seen it, I feel sure that the reason they’ve been taking away Forest People is because this is happening more often. That’s all I know.”

“Why did you bandage me?”

“You were tearing at your back in pain and I thought you might claw off all your skin, so I bandaged you to keep that from happening.”

Shion wasn’t leaning against the wall anymore, and his fists were clenched. 

“You were in the Correctional Facility?” Nezumi asked. 

“Yes. That’s what I was escaping from, when I met you.”

Nezumi was silent for a moment, trying to take in the new information. Maybe that explained Shion’s reaction… Nezumi didn’t know exactly what went on in there, but he knew it was very, very bad. Likely to be traumatic, especially for a child. Which Shion had been at the time of their first meeting.

“Do you know if the stripes will go away?”

“I don’t think so.”

_God, I’m a freak._

Nezumi ran his hand over the stripes on his stomach, and thanked the gods that he hadn’t grown anything else. 

He hated to ask, but… “What did they do to those two Forest People you saw?”

“Cut their wings off, carved out the wing buds, took the stingers out. The first one they left to see how long it’d take him to bleed out. The second one – he was luckier. They shot him.”

All of this was said in a completely flat tone. But Shion’s eyes were shadowed. 

“Why did they cut them up like that?”

“Experiments, I guess.” Shion shrugged. 

Nezumi shuddered. 

_Goddamn No. 6_! He felt sick to his stomach.

Crossing his arms tightly to his chest, Nezumi said, “Huh. Those bastards.”

Shion was watching him warily, as if he might be grabbed by the throat again at any minute. It felt as if Nezumi had somehow violated him. He didn’t understand that feeling at all, but he didn’t like it either.

“Shion… I shouldn’t have attacked you.”

Shion looked at Nezumi steadily for a moment. Then the corner of his mouth curled up. 

“That was pretty impressive how you trapped me in less than a minute, you know. It used to take five scientists at once to hold me down. But I guess I never expected you to try and kill me, ha ha.”

Nezumi gritted his teeth. Of course, he couldn’t promise that he’d never have a reason to try and kill Shion for real. But Shion had rescued him from a fate worse than death, then tended to him faithfully in his worst hour, and he had repaid that kindness by making him fear for his life. 

“I don’t _want_ you to become my enemy, Shion,” he said, like it mattered. 

“I’ll never become your enemy,” Shion said simply. “I won’t let that happen.”

Nezumi was startled and irritated by the intensity of those words. How could Shion say that? And why did it matter to him so much? Shion obviously had no idea what he was talking about.

“But –” he started.

“Oh no…”

“What is it?”

Shion was looking at the clock. 

“I have to go to work.”

“Work? Where?”

“In town. Do you want to come with me?”

“What? But I can’t go out like this.”

“I have something you can use to disguise yourself.”

“Well, okay then.” Nezumi didn’t really relish the thought of being cooped up inside all day.

“Great. Put your shirt back on.”

Nezumi did as he was told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, poor Shion has had some of his spunk conditioned out of him. He's even more fucked up than you think. Wait until the next chapter!


	5. Sin and Sanctity

Getting out of the house was quite an operation. While Nezumi got dressed, Shion rubbed coal dust in his hair, turning it – well, not exactly black, but dark grey. At least it wasn’t white anymore, because that made him stand out far too much. Then he handed Nezumi a large piece of black cloth, which had a similar texture to finely-woven cotton, but a strange sheen to it. 

“What’s this?”

“Superfibre cloth. Put it around your shoulders. I don’t need it, because people tend to avoid me, but you might.”

Superfibre cloth? Nezumi had heard of that before. It was supposed to be extremely useful, as it was basically a lightweight shock-absorber. It was said to be able to repel even bullets, but Nezumi had never seen it in action himself, and naturally he wasn’t interested in testing that rumour. 

He wrapped the cloth around his shoulders, while Shion pulled on a long black coat. Then he grabbed the medical kit from the shelf and stood at the door, looking at Nezumi expectantly.

“What are you, the village mad doctor?” Nezumi scoffed, glancing at his new scarf-slash-cloak in the mirror one last time. 

“Yes,” Shion said seriously, as both of them started out the door. 

“You’ve had medical training?”

“No. I picked up a lot from observation during… when I was younger. Then, when I came here, I read a lot of books.”

“You learned how to be a doctor from reading books? I don’t think I’d want you to doctor _me_ , thanks.”

Shion shrugged and fell silent. 

The town was just as dirty and noisy as it had looked from the outside. The ground was not paved; at first glance, it looked like simple mud, but if Nezumi looked closer, he could see that it was a mixture of normal mud and various fallen substances in a rainbow of colours all derived from vomit. The road was lined with dwellings of all kinds, from tents to trailers to barracks to shanties. Some lucky people had what looked like permanent houses, but they were all relics of a past era, barely managing to stand erect, with sagging roofs and taped-up windows. Clouds of grey smoke issued from these, making Nezumi’s eyes water. 

Nezumi could smell various exotic and unpleasant flavours, including urine, blood, sweat, rotting garbage, and smoke, to name a few. Although the logging plant smelt of oil, sweat, and dirt, Nezumi was far more acclimatized to the smells of the peaceful forest, and he found his nose absolutely assailed. 

But worse than the smell was the atmosphere – it was crowded, crowded, crowded. People bumped into him from all sides, rubbing up against him roughly as they pushed past him. He did not like being in close proximity to so many strangers. And now he knew why Shion had given him the superfibre cloth – his still-bruised body did not appreciate these shocks to the system. 

Of course, it was also raucously loud. There were seductive coos from prostitutes, shouts from venders, and angry cries from people who were undoubtedly having their money stolen. That was the piss icing on the shit cake. 

Nezumi found himself on hyper-alert. He had to pay attention to his surroundings. This was a place where violence might erupt at any time, and he was determined that it wouldn’t erupt around him. 

Was it just Nezumi’s imagination, or were Shion’s lips pressed together more tightly than usual? Not that it was that bad for _him_ – people seemed to know who he was, because they were actually giving him space. Nezumi hadn’t seen a single person touch him yet, not even by accident. 

_Do they really respect his medical capabilities that much? Or…_

Nezumi couldn’t think of a reason a band of hardy ruffians would have to avoid touching such a mild-looking person as Shion. Someone who couldn’t even raise a hand to him upon being attacked. Interesting. 

The first place they stopped at was a butcher’s shop, which looked as if it had formerly been a rowhouse with all its neighbors knocked down. It wasn’t very busy; the few people standing at the counter glanced at them as they entered, though they looked immediately away upon seeing Shion. The butcher was a huge, hairy giant of a man, with a distinctly antagonistic expression. He glared at Nezumi, who stuck his nose up and ignored him.

Shion went straight through to the backroom, ignoring the butcher working behind the counter. In the back there was a stairway up to the second floor; the butcher’s family evidently lived over the shop. 

Upstairs, they found a woman lying in bed with a boy sitting in a chair beside her. Nezumi surmised that the woman was the butcher’s wife. She looked very pale and thin, lying there with her eyes half-closed, while the boy, who looked to be about twelve years old, read to her slowly and haltingly.

As soon as he noticed Shion, he snapped the book shut and jumped up, standing at attention. His eyes flicked to Nezumi, who could tell that he was clearly confused about Nezumi’s presence, but he didn’t question it. 

“Hello, Shion-sama. Thank you for coming. My mother feels much better today.”

Shion put his case flat on the foot of the bed. When he did nothing else, the boy and his mother exchanged glances Nezumi did not comprehend. The mother started to struggle to sit up, but Shion quickly waved his hand at her, and she gratefully relaxed back onto her pillows. 

“Uh… she’s breathing better,” the boy volunteered.

“I ate some bread this morning,” the mother said. 

Shion nodded. He walked to the head of the bed, and the boy moved aside hastily to give him some space. Shion put his hand on the patient’s forehead, then to her chest so he could hear her heart, and scrutinized her eyes, probably to see if they were glassy or if her pupils were dilated. He gave a sharp nod and walked back to his case. The mother and son exchanged hopeful glances. 

From the first aid kit, Shion produced a brown paper packet. It read “Mrs. Butcher” in neat writing. Below that were instructions for taking the contents, which seemed to be some kind of plant. Shion handed the packet to the boy, and motioned at these instructions. The boy read them aloud. Shion nodded again. Then he turned, closed the case, and started heading towards the door. 

_Is that it?_ Nezumi wondered.

“Shion-sama! Wait!”

Shion turned questioningly towards the boy.

“Could you tell us – please – when will my mother be cured?”

Shion tilted his head to one side. The boy gulped. Then Shion raised his hands, displaying seven fingers. 

“Seven… seven days?” 

Shion nodded. 

The boy gasped. “Thank you!” 

With no further ado, Shion continued back down the stairs, Nezumi following. They did not leave immediately, though; instead, they stopped in front of the counter. The butcher immediately turned his attention from the customer he was helping. 

“Doctor… how is my wife?”

Shion held up seven fingers again. The butcher looked relieved. 

“Wonderful, that’s wonderful news. Thank you.”

Shion nodded graciously. 

“I trust that our payment agreement is still amenable to you?” 

Shion inclined his head again. 

“Wonderful. Thank you. You are very generous.”

Shion blinked. With no further ado, he and Nezumi left the store. 

Next, they visited the home of a seamstress, whose child had broken his arm falling out of a tree. As he had at the butcher’s, Shion did not speak, although he seemed somehow softer at the edges when dealing with the child, who was only about six or seven.

They visited several other homes, to deal with a fever, a cut on the leg that needed stitching, and three cases of chicken pox. It seemed that in each case, payment had been pre-determined, except in the case of the person with the cut leg, a prostitute who had been attacked by her drunken client the night before. Nezumi had no idea how Shion had known he was needed at that particular brothel. When they had shown up, the owner hadn’t even seemed surprised to see them, just relieved and respectful, like everyone else they had visited. 

After Shion had sewn up the wound, he stood in the doorway looking fixedly at the woman. She was a tall, slim, busty girl of about 20, with a thick of hair that had been dyed vivid red. 

“Payment?” she said. 

Shion nodded. Nezumi had seen him make that same head gesture about fifty times that day. 

“Well… it will need a repeat visit, to take the stitches out…” 

Shion’s face was completely blank. 

“And… you don’t want to do check up on it to make sure it doesn’t get infected, do you?”

Shion did nothing. 

She sighed. “Okay, I suppose it is in my best interest. And I can afford it. I’m a hard worker after all, not like Hoshi – ahem, sorry. How about a silver coin?”

That wasn’t small beans, a silver coin. 

Shion was still unresponsive. 

“A silver coin and three bronze coins?” The woman was watching Shion’s face intently. “No? Three silver coins?”

Nothing. 

“Fine, a gold coin, are you happy?”

“Is it fair?” Shion said gravely. Nezumi nearly fell over from shock. After a day of silence, he had almost forgotten what Shion’s voice sounded like. The prostitute flinched when he said it, possibly because of the sum of money he was inquiring about, or possibly because Shion’s voice was cold as ever. It even gave Nezumi chills.

The prostitute quickly recovered from her shock, and pouted. “No, it’s not, because I take better care of myself than the rest of them do, and you know it. This was just a freak accident. I mean, it _was_ a freak who did this to me. That asshole.”

She looked hopefully at Shion. His eyes were smiling. 

Encouraged, the prostitute said, “Okay, so two silver coins it is?”

Shion crossed his arms. 

“Aww, come on. Hey, I know. How about I pay you with some services instead of just money? I know you let the grocer pay you in potatoes. He told me so last Thursday. I’ll make up the difference in kisses. And other things, if you want.”

Strangely, Shion glanced at Nezumi, before shaking his head.

The prostitute pouted. “Fine. Be that way.”

But then Shion held up three fingers, and her easy smile returned. 

“Well, you drive a hard bargain. But I’ll accept it. Thanks, Doc.” She handed him three silver coins, and then Nezumi and Shion were on their way again.

The last place they stopped at was near the edge of town. It looked more like a house than a business, albeit a very large and stately house – a mansion. The windows were boarded up. There were several clean but scruffy-looking dogs lying around in the yard in front of it. Inside, the nearly-intact chandelier and peeling white walls showed that it had had some kind of far more glorious past. It was quite dark and smelled very strongly of dog.

There seemed to be nobody around. Since they finally had some peace, Nezumi felt it was safe enough to talk. He wasn’t sure if he should try and get Shion to break his silence. But he hated it – though he didn’t understand why. Shion seemed like the kind of person who _should_ talk. Whenever he talked to Nezumi, he got the feeling that Shion was saying volumes more in his mind than he was with his mouth. This silence – it was even worse than those repressed words. It was like he was completely emotionless, like his mind was flat-lining while his body went through the motions. Being reserved was one thing. Being like _this_ was another. 

“What is this place?”

Shion glanced at him. 

“A hotel.”

Nezumi was startled. He had half-expected Shion not to answer the question. 

“Even now?”

“Yeah. A good one, too.”

At that moment, Nezumi got a glimpse of movement to his left. A dog was standing there, looking none too friendly. It was a large dog, with short, dark-brown fur. Several other dogs of varying sizes emerged from the darkness to flank him. Shion didn’t seem perturbed by them, but they made Nezumi’s hair stand on end. 

He didn’t want to show a sign of weakness, but he also didn’t want to have his throat torn out. He stepped back. 

“It’s alright,” Shion said reassuringly. “These dogs are good people.”

Nezumi didn’t know where to start with that weird statement. Before he could reply to it, however, a voice rang out from the landing above them. 

“Hey, thanks, Doc.”

Nezumi looked up. A long-haired, brown-skinned, raggedy boy was standing at the top of the stairs, holding a candle. He looked young – thirteen at the oldest. He had fine, delicate features, and Nezumi wondered for a moment if this person might actually be a girl – but no, his voice was too low for that. He descended the stairs, hopping awkwardly. It seemed that he didn’t want to put pressure on his right foot. He looked slightly puzzled. 

“You’re awfully talkative today, ain’t’cha?”

Shion’s eyes were smiling again. “Inukashi, this is Nezumi. Nezumi, Inukashi,” he said.

“Aww, you don’t gotta use those fancy manners on me, Doc. You know I already knew his name, anyway.”

“What? How?” Nezumi said.

“Heard it through the grapevine,” Inukashi said mischievously. “My dogs told me.”

“Your dogs told you?”

“Yep. I’ll hold a conversation with anything with four feet, practically. It’s easy to get information from anywhere when your informants have better ears than humans do. Feel free to come to me if you ever need any.”

_Who_ is _this weirdo_?

“But anyway, it’s nice to meet’cha, Nezumi.”

Inukashi held out the hand that wasn’t holding the candle, and Nezumi looked at him warily. Inukashi was wearing a ring, and although Nezumi could see nothing obviously wrong with it, it struck him as strange that a dog-keeper, of all people, would wear such a thing. 

“What kind of fool do you think I am?” he said angrily. “I’m not shaking hands with a stranger.”

“Ooh, he’s sharp!” Inukashi said, flashing a big grin. “Yep, you got me.” He turned his palm up to show that Nezumi’s intuition had been right – there was a needle-point attached to the ring. 

It was hard to believe that someone who looked as open and friendly as Inukashi would try to stick a spike in someone, but Nezumi knew that appearances could be deceptive. 

“You bastard,” Nezumi said. “That’s no way to treat your guests.”

Inukashi cackled. “That why I said he didn’t have to use nice manners on me. After all, I’m pretty sure I ain’t got none myself!”

A dog was nudging the back of Nezumi’s knees with a big wet nose. Nezumi glanced at it sourly, and it panted happily at him. 

“Why are all these dogs around?” 

“They’re part of the hotel,” Inukashi said defensively.

“Yeah, I got that part,” Nezumi said sarcastically. “I meant, what do they do here? You have to get the money to feed them, don’t you?”

“Oh. Yeah, I rent them out as heaters. So people don’t freeze to death at night. They’re good at guarding me and protecting my stuff, too.”

Nezumi glanced down at the dog, which was still wagging its tail. He was glad Shion had a wood-burning stove instead of a troupe of mangy mutts. 

“Hey, Doc, you’re here to look at my foot, right?” Inukashi said. He was the first patient to question Shion’s presence. “You know I ain’t got the money, right?”

“That’s fine. You can pay me later.”

Inukashi bit his lip. “I’m sorry, Doc, but I don’t like to owe people like that. It’s nothing personal. It’s just no good for me, you know?”

“Hmm,” Shion said. “Well, you know I accept work in place of payment.”

“Work? Oh!” Inukashi said, understanding flashing over his face. “You want to leave Nezumi here with me for a while? That’s no problem.”

What? Nezumi felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Shion wasn’t really planning on pawning him off to this dog-hair-covered weirdo, was he?

“No, no,” Shion said quickly. Inukashi frowned.

“Information then?” 

“Yes, please.”

“More of the same?”

“Hmm. I just need statistics. How many get taken, how, when, where. Names, too. Once a week for the rest of the month. Is that fair?”

“You got it,” Inukashi said easily. 

_What the hell are they talking about? Names? Who is Shion spying on, and why?_

Nezumi would have bet his bottom dollar that Shion was trying to keep tabs on the Forest People. And indeed, Inukashi suddenly started. 

“Wait a minute, Doc.” He raised the candle, peered at Nezumi’s face, and gasped. 

“Grey eyes! Is he one of _them_?”

“The Forest People?” Nezumi said. “Yeah? I’m not one of those bastards from No 6., if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Inukashi’s eyes went round. “Oh…” he said. “Why _this_ one, Doc?”

“No,” Shion said simply. 

Inukashi backed down instantly. “Awright, I’m sorry. I know when to mind my business. Speaking of business, do you want to go out the back? I know you like to have better light.”

Shion nodded, and the three of them traipsed out to the backyard, a wide, open, stone courtyard ringed with a few roughly-hewn stone benches. Inukashi sat down on one of these. In the light, Nezumi could see that Inukashi wasn’t wearing shoes, and that one of his big toes appeared to be swollen quite a bit. There was a wound on one side, very inflamed and red. No wonder it hurt him to walk on it. 

Shion picked up Inukashi’s foot and examined it. 

“It’s a good thing I came early,” he murmured. “We’re going to have to drain it.”

“Wh- what?” Inukashi said nervously. “What does that mean?”

Shion was opening his first aid kit. “It means we have to cut it open, drain out all the pus, disinfect it, and sew it shut again.”

“You’re going to cut me open?” 

“Yes,” Shion said, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. “But luckily for you, I can spare enough anaesthetic to dull the pain.”

Nezumi wondered how often Shion ran out of anaesthetic. From the look of pure relief on Inukashi’s face, it was common. 

Three dogs, the dark brown one from inside, one small tan one with a curly tail, and one medium-sized, shaggy-haired white one had ambled over to observe. The dark brown one sat next to Inukashi, and he put his hand on its head and scratched its ears. 

“Make sure he doesn’t get too near me,” Shion warned. “I don’t want hair in this wound.”

“Don’t worry, he knows better,” said Inukashi. 

Shion pulled out a needle and started preparing to inject Inukashi’s foot. Inukashi looked up at Nezumi, trying to avoid watching what was going on. 

_Heh. Pain must be his weak point._ That information might come in handy.

“This is my brother, you know,” Inukashi said, patting the dog’s head. 

“A dog is your brother?”

“Yep. We were littermates.”

Nezumi scrutinized the dog’s face. It had nice caramel coloured eyes. It didn’t seem that special to Nezumi; it was just an ordinary dog. 

“Uh… does he have a name?”

Inukashi laughed. “Nah. We dogs don’t really need names. We know each other by scent.”

_This guy sure is strange._

Nezumi glanced at Shion and saw that he had gotten to work with the scalpel. Although Nezumi wasn’t particularly squeamish, he didn’t like to watch Shion at work, because he had a strange look on his face. Although his lips were set at their customary neutral position, his eyes showed a kind of excitement or glee. Evidently he had done his job with the anaesthetic properly, because Inukashi wasn’t showing any signs of discomfort. But that was probably because he wasn’t looking at Shion’s face. 

_The question is, who’s weirder? Inukashi or Shion?_

_…Definitely Shion._

“Hey, Inukashi,” Shion said, his expression changing to something almost shy. 

“Yeah?” Inukashi said, raising his eyebrows. 

“I heard you have a litter of puppies right now.”

Inukashi relaxed, though he was still staring fixedly ahead. “Yeah, I do. You wanna see ‘em?”

“Mm-hmm,” Shion said emphatically.

“Airhead,” said Inukashi, almost affectionately. That was not the nickname Nezumi would have used, but alright. “Sure, I’ll take you upstairs later.”

Shion didn’t reply. With a shrug, Inukashi turned back to Nezumi.

“So, you got a job?” he asked.

“No, not yet.”

“Do you want one?”

Was he going to be staying long enough to need a job? 

“No, I don’t want to be financially independent. I like being a useless burden.”

“You’re not a burden, Nezumi,” Shion said in a serene voice. Inukashi glanced at him and yelped at the sight of his own blood, then quickly looked away. Nezumi smirked. 

“Look, if I’m staying –” there was a question in his voice, and he paused, but Shion said nothing “– if I’m staying, I want a job.”

“In that case, you can work for me, if you want.” 

“Oh? How much will you pay me?”

“Depends on how good of a job you do.”

Nezumi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m not working for someone with that attitude. I know how that’s going to end.”

Inukashi laughed. 

“Stay still,” Shion said. 

“Shit, sorry.”

Shion didn’t reply. 

“Hey, Doc, uh… how much longer is this going to take?” 

“I’m almost done.”

“That wasn’t a rude question at all,” Nezumi observed. 

“Oh, shaddup,” said Inukashi. “It’s not often I get to interrogate him.”

Shion looked up and blinked at Inukashi in confusion.

“But I actually talk to _you_.”

The look on Inukashi’s face was priceless. His eyes widened in shock as if Shion had just stabbed him with the needle he was using. 

“Y – yeah, okay. Sure you do. Just hurry up with that thing, okay? I don’t ike having sharp objects stuck in my feet, you know.”

Shion returned his attention to Inukashi’s wounded foot. Nezumi gave Inukashi a questioning look, but he shook his head. 

When the surgery was over, Shion packed up his medical kit, and Inukashi walked around the yard experimentally. 

“You need to keep that wound clean,” Shion instructed him. “I’ve put a light bandage on it. Keep that. If it gets dirty, wash it well. You can take it off at night so the wound can breathe, but make sure you sleep in a clean place.”

“Okay, Doc,” Inukashi said easily. “By the way, you wanna go see those puppies now?”

Shion nodded emphatically. 

Inukashi led them back inside, up the creaky staircase to the second story. Inside one of the dark rooms, there was a cream-coloured mother dog stretched out on her side on the floor, with seven fat, roly-poly puppies crawling around beside her, several of them attached to her sadly distended teats. They looked very young, having only just opened their eyes. 

Shion immediately knelt beside them and picked one up. 

“It’s so soft,” he said wonderingly, his eyes lighting up, an expression of awe flashing across his face.

“Yeah, they’re real cute, alright,” said Inukashi in a sarcastic tone, though he was smiling fondly. He glanced at the puppies, at Shion petting the belly of the one he was holding, and at Nezumi. He licked his lips. 

“Listen, Nezumi and I are going to go talk jobs. We’ll be right next door. We wouldn’t want to interrupt your communion with those puppies.”

“What?” said Nezumi, but Inukashi was already dragging him out the door and into the other room. It was totally bare, with curls of old, decaying wallpaper lying on the splintering planks of the floor. Some lights crept in at the edge of the boarded-up windows, but not enough to see more than half of Inukashi’s face. It was lucky for Nezumi that he was used to operating in the dark.

“What the hell?” he snapped in a low voice. “I said I wasn’t interested.”

“Yeah, I know. This isn’t really about that, anyway. Look, I just want to know what the hell you’ve done to Shion,” Inukashi said, almost accusingly.

“What?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this or something, but he’s fucking talking! Aloud!”

“I haven’t done anything to him. He was the one who took me in, not the other way around.”

Inukashi’s face was plastered in genuine confusion. “Normally when he comes here, he says about ten words in total, and it’s always if I’m doing something that pisses him off. I’ve heard he talks to other people even less than he does to me.”

“It’s true,” Nezumi said grimly. “I went doctoring with him this morning. We visited about six people and he only spoke once, and that was when he wanted to get paid.”

“You see! Today he was actually saying stuff of his own accord. Without being asked a question! He even had opinions about stuff. He never does that. Normally I have to read him by his scent. I have no idea how anyone else understands him.” Inukashi stared pacing around the room excitedly. 

Nezumi thought about it. “Maybe he’s talking to me because we knew each other when we were kids,” he said. Naturally, he didn’t want to tell Inukashi the story; he didn’t really trust him. But Nezumi knew this was the best way to get more information about Shion. That was the only reason he was listening to this ranting. What did Inukashi hope to get out of this conversation? That was the real question.

Inukashi stopped in his tracks. His eyes looked like they would pop out of his head. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, he’s not one of the Forest People, is he?” Inukashi asked, resuming his pacing. 

“No.”

“So then – how –” 

“That’s none of your business, I believe,” Nezumi said smoothly. 

Inukashi shook his head. “Whatever. Just – just keep doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Why do you care?”

Inukashi looked uneasy. “Because no one should be like he is. It’s unnatural. He always smells like he’s sick, but it’s not a normal sickness. It’s like a mind sickness.”

“You can smell that?” Nezumi said sceptically. Was Inukashi saying that Shion was insane?

“Even if I couldn’t, my dogs all agree. They like him, but there’s something wrong with him.”

“Is that why the people in town are afraid of him?” 

“What? They are?”

“They won’t walk too closely to him. And they were all overly respectful.”

Inukashi thought about it for a moment. Then he said, “I’ve heard stories. If you gyp Shion out of money, or if you touch him without permission, bad things happen.”

Nezumi felt a shiver run down his spine. That morning – he had slammed Shion up against a wall. Clearly without permission. That was not a minor infraction. Was Shion biding his time, waiting to get revenge? 

“What kind of bad things?”

“Well –” Inukashi began. At that moment there was a knock at the door. Inukashi looked guilty. Nezumi jabbed him in the ribs and went to open the door. 

“Hey! What was that for?” Inukashi said indignantly. Nezumi smirked. Outrage was excellent for covering up guilt, and Inukashi was so easy to read. 

Shion stood in the doorway. “The mother had enough of me playing with her babies. Are you guys done?” he said sheepishly.

“Sure,” Nezumi replied calmly. 

“Did you get a job.”

“No he did not!” Inukashi said loudly. 

“Oh.”

“It’s okay, I can job-hunt by myself, thanks,” Nezumi said. “Are you ready to go?”

Shion nodded. 

“Great. It’s been fun seeing you, Inukashi. Bye bye. Be a good boy now.”

Inukashi was fuming. 

“Get out of my hotel, you bastard!”

“Will do,” said Nezumi, holding up his hand and giving an insolent little parting wave. He and Shion traipsed back downstairs and then out the front door. 

“Was that our last stop?” Nezumi asked. 

“Yep.”

And so together they went back to Shion’s small basement room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know something? I have no idea how the author chose the chapter titles for the original story. Because now that I'm putting them into this fanfiction, I realise that they have absolutely nothing to do with anything. They sure sound good, though!
> 
> Also, hooray for selective mutism!
> 
> Oh yes, and I borrowed part of Inukashi's Days for this, too. Did you notice?


	6. The Angel of the Netherworld

After they arrived back at Shion’s house, Shion put away his medical kit and washed the coal dust out of his hair, while Nezumi divested himself of the faithful superfibre cloth and examined the marks on his back and stomach again. He stretched his back, wincing at the tenderness, and hoped it would heal soon. He poked at the bruise on his ribs, and found it was even more painful than it had been that morning.

“Shit!” Nezumi cursed. Shion poked his head of the bathroom, holding a hairbrush. 

“Fuck those damn guards,” Nezumi said in a disgruntled voice. Shion looked him over, saw that he wasn’t bleeding from anywhere, and closed the bathroom door again.

Nezumi quickly got dressed again, thinking to himself about bruise healing time and wondering if it applied to his back. If he was unlucky, he’d be very stiff the next morning too, and he didn’t want that. He needed to be in top physical condition in this hellhole of a town, in case any fights broke out. 

It would be nice to practice sparring with someone, just to make himself feel better. He used to spar with Izanami. Maybe if she were here, she’d be able to help him out.

Izanami. He wondered how she had broken the news of his disappearance to his parents and grandmother. They probably all thought he was dead by now. Clearly, he could not go back to visit them, because his presence would endanger them. But it would be nice to be able to get them a word that he was still alive. Maybe Shion would be able to help him with that. Shion might also know of a job he could take up. And somewhere else he could live, because he’d be damned if he had to stay here. Partly because he didn’t want to rely on Shion’s charity, and partly because he didn’t know how to feel about Shion. The boy didn’t seem dangerous, he mostly just seemed aloof. But after seeing his silent treatment in town that day, and what Inukashi had said… 

Nezumi was lying spread out on the couch when Shion came out of the bathroom again, his white hair fluffy, no traces of black remaining. 

“You hungry?” he said, going over to the stove. 

“Yeah,” Nezumi admitted. He had lost the entire contents of his stomach the night before, and eaten nothing but a bread heel that morning. He hoped Shion wasn’t so poor that he couldn’t spare a night’s worth of soup for him. Not that he wasn’t used to going hungry. But one could always hope. 

Shion went into the bathroom to fill a pot of water to boil. By the time he came back, Nezumi was examining the bookshelf. 

Most of the titles were medical, but there were a few classics – _The Happy Prince_ , by Oscar Wilde, _The Nuremberg Interviews_ , Herman Hesse’s complete works, Shakespeare’s _Macbeth_ , _Crime and Punishment_. A literary feast compared to what was available to him at the labour camp. Of these, Nezumi had read only _Macbeth_ , and that only once. He pulled it from the shelf and went back to the sofa. 

He opened the book, but did not start to read. Instead, he scrutinized Shion, who was slicing a potato, over the top of the book. 

Shion’s movements were relaxed, natural. Why shouldn’t they be? He was in his own home, making dinner.

Nezumi put down the book. 

“Hey, Shion.”

“Yeah?”

“Can we get a message to my family so they know I’m not dead?”

Shion chewed on his bottom lip. Nezumi was surprised to see such a casual, innocent gesture on him. 

“Well… I already did, this morning, when you were asleep. I sent Hamlet.” One of the three mice who were sitting on the table where Shion was working cheeped quietly. 

“The mice deliver messages?” Nezumi said sceptically. 

“Mmm-hmm. They’re super smart. But look, Nezumi. You can’t worry about your family anymore. In this place, thinking about the things you’ve lost, or you can’t have – it just makes things harder. Don’t concern yourself with what happens to them. Concentrate on your own survival.” Shion looked up from his chopping block to catch Nezumi’s gaze. His purple eyes were sad. Then he blinked and the emotion was gone. 

“But what if one of them… pupates?” Nezumi rubbed his forehead with his hand, letting _Macbeth_ drop to the couch beside him. What Shion said made sense – he knew that he should concentrate on the here and now only. But he couldn’t just _forget_ his family. 

His grandmother would probably tell him to do it. 

“I said, don’t concern yourself with it,” Shion said calmly. He used the knife to sweep the potatoes into the pot he had prepared earlier. “You were there when I made that deal with Inukashi. You know I’m keeping track of them.”

“If I’m not allowed to think about them, how come you are?” Nezumi said indignantly, crossing his arms. 

“They’re not my family,” Shion said pointedly. Now he was dicing some carrots. “I’m not emotionally attached.”

“You’re not emotionally attached to anything.” 

“I do have a mother, you know,” Shion said mildly. 

_Have? Or had?_

“Yeah, and you probably don’t give a shit about her.”

Nezumi couldn’t read Shion’s expression because he was concentrating on his task so fixedly. “Nezumi, why are you saying these things?”

“Because I don’t want to leave my family’s fate in the hands of a psychopath, that’s why.”

“You think I’m a psychopath?” Shion looked up again, finished with the carrots. 

“Oh, I know it. Inukashi told me what you do to people who don’t pay you properly,” Nezumi bluffed, looking boldly into Shion’s eyes. 

“I have to _eat_ ,” Shion protested, gesturing at the pot beside him. “Besides, if someone gets hurt because of me, I don’t make them pay extra for the medical treatment. At least I’m fair.”

 _I don’t make them pay extra for the medical treatment_?!

“Look,” Shion continued, “You’re just going to have to trust me, okay? If we’re going to be living together for a while, you might as well get used to it.”

“Yeah, about that,” Nezumi said, as Shion took out a packet of noodles and added some to the pot. 

“Hmm?”

“I’m not staying here,” Nezumi said flatly. “I don’t want to be dependent on anyone’s charity.” _Especially not yours_. 

“You can get a job,” Shion offered, putting the pot on the stove. 

“That’s not good enough. I don’t want to sleep in this tiny bed for the rest of my life.” He poked the couch as he spoke, and the springs creaked angrily. 

“I can always get a bigger bed, I guess,” Shion said thoughtfully, coming to stand in front of Nezumi and glare down at him. 

“Shion, stop screwing around. I said I want to leave, so I’m leaving,” Nezumi said, standing up.

“Okay, okay. Fine. But not until you’re financially independent. It would be suicidal to try and live on your own without a job.”

“What are you, my mother?”

Shion clenched his fists. Nezumi tensed at the movement. “I’m just trying to help you, idiot. You’ve never lived in the West Block before, so stop trying to act like you know what you’re doing. How do you think I would feel if you got yourself killed?”

“Oh, so you’re allowed to have a little crush on me, but I’m not allowed to care about my own family?” Nezumi snapped. 

Shion actually scowled. The expression was incredibly fearsome. Nezumi felt his heart beating faster, preparing him to fight or fly. “You saved my life. I owe you a debt. If you go and die, I’ll have failed miserably. So cut that out.”

“You already repaid it. You saved my life too. Get off your high horse.”

“Please,” Shion said bitterly. “If there’s one thing this world has pounded into me again and again, it’s that I’m not worthy of having pride. You, on the other hand, are so concerned with your precious pride that you’d rather die than lose it. Grow up!” As he spoke, his voice mounted in volume and intensity, and his face was still frozen in that angry scowl. 

“My life hasn’t exactly been a bucket of fucking roses either,” Nezumi said challengingly. 

“You’ve never been manacled to a wall for over _three months_ ,” Shion said, reaching for his sleeve. 

_He’s got a knife in there_.

That was the thought that shot through Nezumi’s head like a flash. He dove across the sofa, hands reaching to grab Shion by the throat. 

With a thump, he landed flat on his stomach on the sofa. Shion had leapt up quicker than Nezumi could comprehend, and was now pressing his knee into Nezumi’s back. He cried out in pain as he felt Shion’s knee slam into his back and dig in. Shion grabbed for Nezumi’s wrists, nearly wrenching his arms out of their sockets. For a moment, Nezumi squirmed, trying to dislodge Shion, but it was too late. 

“ _What the hell do you think you’re doing_?” Shion’s voice was colder than the heart of a glacier. Nezumi expected to feel steel on his neck, but then belatedly remembered… Shion had scars on his wrists. Was that why he had gone for his sleeves? To show them off and prove his point? Well, shit. 

“Shion, I…”

“ _If you attack me again, I’ll rip your fucking arms off_.”

Nezumi twisted his torso, felt Shion’s knee dig in even further to his bruised skin, and gave up with a groan of pain. 

“I won’t do it again. Let me up,” he said through gritted teeth.

Shion did not reply. Nezumi wondered what his face looked like, if he was still scowling. What felt like long minutes ticked by. Shion’s fists clenched around Nezumi’s wrists, and Nezumi thought, _Oh God, this is it. He’s going to kill me_. 

But then Shion let go. 

“Nezumi,” Shion said, rising slowly. Nezumi rolled onto his side, then sat up, breathing deeply in through his nose, and attempted to assume a defensive posture. 

Shion was backing away from the sofa, chewing his bottom lip. Every so often a flash of emotion would cross his face – distress, anxiety. 

“Nezumi, I can’t hurt you. I – I won’t hurt you. Why did you do that? Haven’t I been good – to you?” Those two words were tacked on as a strange afterthought. 

“I thought you were going to attack me,” Nezumi confessed, slowly relaxing. It felt like Shion had just stamped on his back with hobnail boots. 

“But why?” Shion blurted out, looking even more distressed. “Why would you think that?”

_Because for you an intense display of emotion is crinkling your eyes a little more? Because all the inhabitants of a very dangerous town have learned to obey even your thoughts?_

But Nezumi remembered Shion’s face when he had seen those puppies, and how he had stayed up all night while Nezumi was pupating to keep him from choking on his own vomit…

Nezumi must have hesitated for too long when replying, because Shion gave a little agonized cry and turned away. 

Having no idea what to say, Nezumi cleared his throat awkwardly. “It was a mistake, okay?”

Still not looking at him, Shion floated back over to the stove to examine the pot he had placed on it earlier. “I know I’m defective. It doesn’t matter,” he said in a calm voice. 

“You’re not defective, you’re just weird. You’re just an airhead, I guess.” Nezumi echoed Inukashi’s gentle nickname from earlier in the day.

Shion did not reply. A painfully oppressive silence settled over the kitchen as he stirred the soup slowly and methodically. 

Nezumi stood up.

“ _Round about the cauldron go:_  
 _In the poisoned entrails throw._  
 _Toad, that under cold stone_  
 _Days and nights has thirty-one_  
 _Sweated venom sleeping got,_  
 _Boil thou first in the charmed pot.”_

Shion practically dropped his spoon. “What?”

Nezumi laughed. “That’s a poem from –” he looked around quickly, and found that _Macbeth_ had been kicked under the sofa in the scuffle. He quickly retrieved it and held it up to show Shion. “From this.”

“Macbeth? But that’s a play.”

“Yes, and a damn good one, too.”

“Do you know any more of it?”

Nezumi grinned. 

“ _Fillet of a fenny snake,_  
 _In the cauldron boil and bake;_  
 _Eye of newt and toe of frog,_  
 _Wool of bat and tongue of dog,_  
 _Adder's fork and blindworm's sting,_  
 _Lizard's leg and howlet's wing._  
 _For charm of powerful trouble,_  
 _Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.”_

Shion stared at him, fascinated. “Nezumi, are you an actor?”

“Of course not. You think I had time for that kind of cultural nonsense?”

Shion absent-mindedly stirred the pot. “You should become an actor, Nezumi. I know we have play-houses in town. I treated the owner of one once.”

“What kind of job is that?” Nezumi scoffed. But actually, the answer was _a desirable one_. To get paid to dress up and read poetry? That was a pretty good gig. The question was if it paid _well_. 

“It was just a thought,” said Shion. He examined the pot, tasted some of its contents, and then added, “Soup’s up.”

“Hmm,” Nezumi said cautiously. “I can sing, too.”

Shion started pouring soup into bowls. He was silent for a moment. “I say you should go for it.”

“ _Double, double toil and trouble,  
Fire burn and cauldron bubble_ ,” said Nezumi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Book Two.


	7. The Beautiful Ones

Three days later.

Nezumi had spent three days on an unsuccessful job hunt. He could not even count the number of shopkeepers of various kinds who did not need or want an assistant, apprentice, or even general maintenance boy. Although he was quite strong and tough, they all said he looked like a fragile little fairy, which pissed him off to no end. He’d had to restrain himself from punching a few people just to prove it wasn’t the case. 

He’d also had to resist name-dropping Shion, because somehow he knew that as soon as he did, he would be swamped with job offers. But he didn’t want a job just because he was riding on Shion’s coattails. 

Of course, he had considered going to the theatre to look for work. But he could tell from the signs in front of it that nobody was looking for new talent at the moment, so he hadn’t even bothered going in. Now it was just about dinner time, and he was going back to Shion’s, because he didn’t want to be in the unfamiliar city after dark.

He was half-way home when he noticed a disturbance in the crowd around him. People were pushing up against each other more fiercely than usual, nearly shoving him into a wall. Pushing back, Nezumi tried to see what was going on, and realised that the crowd was parting to let someone pass. 

Oh, he knew who the crowds in the West Block parted for. Sure enough, a figure in a familiar long black coat was advancing down the street towards him. It seemed logical enough for Nezumi to push farther through the crowd, prompting angry murmurs and an elbow in the ribs which just narrowly missed his healing bruise, and to fall in step with Shion. 

He knew better than to tap Shion on the shoulder or otherwise try to get his attention, because he didn’t know how the people around them would react to such an unusual behaviour. Nobody was supposed to touch Shion, even though he did it all the time. But he knew that Shion had noticed him, because his eyes flicked quickly to Nezumi’s face, then back.

“D’you get hired?” Shion’s voice was just barely loud enough to be heard over the general chatter around them. 

“No,” Nezumi said testily, crossing his arms. The two of them walked through the crowded, noisy streets, until Nezumi realised that they weren’t taking the normal route home. 

“Where are we going?” he hissed, and instead of replying, Shion stopped in front of one of the buildings Nezumi had visited earlier that day but not entered. The theatre. 

“They’re not hiring,” Nezumi said, irritated. Did Shion think that he hadn’t already been here, hadn’t thought of this for himself? 

“I know the manager.” Shion knocked on the front of the ticket window. 

“And he’ll hire me just because you said so?” Nezumi snapped, though he kept his voice low. This was exactly what he _didn’t_ want to have happen. _Piss off, Shion._

“No, but he’ll give you an audition because I said so.”

Like that made it any better.

A bored face appeared at the ticket window. 

“We’re sold out for tonight, and the play’s not for another two hours.”

“Ahem,” Shion coughed. The man inside the booth lost his bored look and his eyes widened in surprise. 

“Oh! It’s _you_. Ah, I’m sorry. Did you want a ticket? I could try and get one…”

Shion shook his head. “May I speak with the manager?”

“The – the manager? I didn’t know he had business with you. I’ll go get him. One moment, please.”

The man shuttered the window and disappeared. 

“Shion, I did not agree to this,” Nezumi said through clenched teeth. 

“You want to get paid, don’t you?”

“Yes, but not just because you told some guy to pay me!”

“I’m not gonna tell him that.”

“Yeah, and –” 

The theatre door opened, and Nezumi abruptly cut off his angry complaints. They were ushered inside by a slightly fat, balding man, who looked quite anxious to see them. 

Inside the theatre it was just as dirty as outside, but it had an air of attempted sophistication which most of the other businesses did not possess. In that way it was similar to Inukashi’s hotel, but in a better state of repair. It was quite dark, though Nezumi could see some large lights strung up in the rafters, and a few spotlights in the balcony, all turned off. The main floor was standing room only, with an aisle in front of the stage and down the side of the room cordoned off. The curtains, which were worn, balding, red velvet, patched with old red tablecloths, were closed on the stage, so Nezumi couldn’t judge whatever props they might have for the evening’s play. 

This was surely not a place for fine art. There was bound to be a lot of improvisation and even more bawdy humour. But at this point, a job was a job. 

“What can I do for you, Doctor?” the manager said, twisting his hands together anxiously. “I – I don’t understand – nobody in my household or my theatre has been ill. Are you here on a health inspection?” 

Shion ignored the man’s question. “This is my friend Nezumi. He can sing. Will you give him an audition?”

The manager frowned in surprise, then looked Nezumi up and down. Nezumi could see that he clearly was not interested, but he was afraid of offending Shion. 

“We know you’re not hiring right now,” Nezumi said pointedly, hoping to get this unpleasant encounter over with as soon as possible. 

“Well, yes, I, ah, was not planning on taking in new actors at the moment…” The manager looked beseechingly from Nezumi to Shion and back again. 

“Just listen to him sing,” Shion said. “If he’s good, you can make more money. If he’s not good, I’ll compensate you for wasting your time.”

“Huh?”

Oh no. Nezumi groaned inwardly. There was no way this obsequious little man was going to refuse free money like that. He’d have to sing, and he wouldn’t get hired, to boot.

_Thanks, Shion. Thanks for nothing, you dumbass._

“One silver coin, if we’ve wasted your time.” 

That idiot was really quite something. He hadn’t even heard Nezumi sing, but he was willing to stake a silver coin on Nezumi’s own word about his talent. Nezumi knew that he had talent, but he’d also had no training. And compared to the rest of his people, his gift was probably paltry. He didn’t really remember what his parents’ singing voices were like, since they were forbidden from singing by the government, but in his memories their voices were like stars floating on the wind. Surely he could not attain such vocal perfection. And even if he could, there was still no guarantee he’d get hired, because who knew if these West Block types could appreciate real music. 

“Done,” said the manager, without hesitation. Turning to Nezumi, he said, “Alright, son, sing me something.”

Wishing he were alone so he could sigh in exasperation, Nezumi quickly ran through his repertoire of songs in his mind. Most of them were songs of his people, which he had picked up in childhood or somehow mysteriously remembered as he grew up. But there were a few he knew from the guards at the logging plant, or even ones he had heard sung in the West Block in the past three days. 

_Oh wind, where do you blow?_  
 _Do you run through the fields,_  
 _Among corn and wheat rows?_  
 _Let me go home, let me go home._

_Oh wind, where do you sing?_  
 _Do you fly through the trees,_  
 _Among birch and oak wing?_  
 _Let me go home, let me go home._

_Oh wind, where is your sky?_  
 _Do you rush through the air,_  
 _Among clouds and stars fly?_  
 _I want to go home, I want to go home._

To show off his range, he put each stanza into a different pitch, so that the first sounded as masculine as he could make it, while the second was his normal singing voice, and the third was in the voice of a woman. As he entered the third verse, the manager’s eyes popped out. He looked as if he was about to fall over from surprise. 

Inwardly, Nezumi snickered. Even Shion’s eyes were round and staring. 

When he’d finished his performance, Nezumi couldn’t resist giving a little mock bow. The manager threw up his hands.

“What a voice! And he does tricks! Doctor, I apologize for doubting you. I’ll hire him on the spot.”

“Wait a minute, how much are you going to pay me?”

“Depends if you’re willing to work in drag or not,” the manager said matter-of-factly.

_What? Does this fat little man have some kind of weird designs on me?_

“Why would I do that?” Nezumi said coolly.

“Because you’re a damn sight prettier than most of the girls we get around here, and ten times better at singing. Besides, you’re not built for the romantic warrior type. Not enough muscles. Too skinny.”

Nezumi could have pushed his face into a wall. Even here! He contemplated picking up the manager – or better yet, Shion – and then decided against it. 

Insults to his physique aside, there was another problem. 

“I’ll do it. But I have to warn you, no backless dresses,” Nezumi said, thinking it would not be good to expose the strange marks on his back in front of an audience. 

“Oh?” The manager looked concerned. Probably imagining the revisions he’d have to make to whatever skimpy dress he had mentally picked out. 

“Yes.” Nezumi’s voice made it clear that he did not wish to be interrogated. 

“Fine. Can we see your collarbones, at least? The audience loves that sort of thing.”

Nezumi found the manager’s unashamed greed amusing. 

“Sure.” He pushed aside the scarf and pulled down his shirt collar to show them off. The request was a little strange, but he knew that much more would be demanded of him in a shadier joint than this. The manager nodded approvingly. 

“Excellent. Starting salary for singers here is five bronze coins a night, but I’ll raise you to nine for your superb talent, then another coin for your agreement to act as a woman, which comes to ten bronze a night. But unfortunately, because we’ll have to remake the costume, I’m afraid I must dock four bronze, so that starts you off at six coins a night.”

“Is it fair?” Shion put in.

“Hell no,” said Nezumi. “Four bronze coins a night for one cheap dress? I’ll make my own dress if that’s what it’s going to cost me. Can’t you alter the one you already have?”

The manager hemmed and hawed. 

“You can’t just wear any dress, you know. You’ve got a man’s body, and we have to disguise it. Hiding the hinges and all that. It’s got to be four coins, I am sorry. Once you’ve paid off the cost of the dress I’ll put them back into your pay.”

“Two coins.”

“We’re already absorbing the cost of your makeup, you know.”

“Two coins.”

“I’ll start you off at seven bronze a night, and that’s my final offer.”

_It’s as close to fair as it’s gonna get._

“Done,” Nezumi said promptly. He and the manager shook hands. 

“You can be our new entr’acte. Rehearsal times are all in the mornings. Come tomorrow at 8:00 and I’ll give you the schedule then. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. See you tomorrow. And Doctor, thank you so much for bringing me this one. He’s going to be so popular.”

Shion nodded obligingly, glancing up at Nezumi with dancing eyes, evidently pleased with the success of his plan. Then the manager politely opened the door for them, and the two boys were spat back out onto the streets of the West Block. 

As soon as they arrived home, Nezumi threw his superfibre scarf down on the couch, then sat down heavily. Shion put his medkit away and disappeared into the bathroom to get the coal dust out of his hair, as he did every night. By the time he came out again, Nezumi had assumed his usual spot on the couch, with a book. He wasn’t really reading; only pretending. Mostly he was just sulking about the events that had transpired.

Shion went straight to the cupboard by the stove to get something for them to eat. After the first night, Nezumi had discovered that soup was rare in Shion’s house, and that he mostly subsisted on bread, dried meat, and potatoes. Nezumi didn’t particularly care what he was given, as long as it was filling. But now that he had his own salary, he and Shion might actually be able to afford real meals. 

Ugh, but he was not going to be sharing his salary with Shion. He was going to be moving out as soon as he was financially independent. Right? 

“You know something, Nezumi?” Shion said. 

“Mm?”

“I thought you’d be really mad at me for dragging you to that theatre. I’m really glad you’re not.” Shion’s voice was so cheerful that Nezumi was taken aback. That’s right, he had forgotten to yell at Shion for that stupid little stunt because he had been too busy thinking about his future salary. 

But how could he reprimand Shion now, with that tone in his voice? Sneaky of him, to make Nezumi feel too guilty to yell at him. How annoying.

After retrieving some food for the both of them, Shion plopped down on the couch next to Nezumi and handed him a plate. 

“Thanks.”

“Mm-hm.” Nezumi did not feel like talking. He wanted to savour the thought of his future independence and ignore Shion’s bullshit for one night. 

“You know something else?” 

Shion was watching him eat for some weird Shion reason, and it was pissing him off. Nezumi rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah?” 

“Your singing voice is absolutely beautiful.” 

“I know,” Nezumi said flippantly. 

Shion chuckled gently. 

Looking up in surprise, Nezumi saw that Shion was smiling as he chewed. Nezumi felt his own lips curve into an answering smile, caught himself, and scowled. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Shion said. His smile dropped, but his eyes were still happy. “By the way, how come you know how to sing like a woman?”

 _By the way, why don’t you mind your own business?_ was what Nezumi felt like saying, but he didn’t. 

Swallowing a bite of bread, Nezumi said airily, “I’m just naturally talented.” The full explanation was that it was because Nezumi knew he had a talent for voice tricks, and he would be a fool not to capitalize on any skills he might happen to have. Being able to sound like someone else had come in handy on several occasions, when either sneaking away from or lying to guards. 

And if he was being truthful, it was also fun to change his voice. Fun to fool people and to mess with their heads. 

“You’re so lucky you have skills like that,” Shion said. “Those are the kind of skills that other people like.”

“Your skills are useful too. You can stop people from dying. Hey – how’d you get to be the village quack in the first place?” Nezumi was glad to redirect the conversation away from himself and back to Shion before he could be interrogated any more. Shion asked too many stupid questions. Time for him to start spitting out some stupid answers instead. 

“I saved someone’s life,” Shion said serenely. 

“Oh?” Nezumi looked up, interested in spite of himself. 

“A little boy – one of our neighbours, actually – was choking on a nut, and I saved his life. When I took him home I explained to his mother that I have medical experience, and she passed it on to someone else. Then people started asking me for help. So I stole this medkit and found an herb supplier, and here we are.”

“And people just let you feed them weird plants and put needles in them?”

“They don’t have much choice. There are no other doctors around here. Besides, I have a reputation now. People know I do everything I can to help them.”

“But you don’t talk to them.”

“I did, at first, a little. Sometimes I still do if it’s a child or if they seem scared. Or if I have to threaten them.” Shion seemed unperturbed at the thought. Apparently finished with his folding, he began to take the dry leaves out of the books and sorting them into the packets he’d made. 

“Why?”

“Why do I threaten them? Sometimes they don’t want to pay. Or they don’t want to follow my instructions because they’re lazy. Or sometimes, if I know they’re secretly doing something bad, I try to stop them. You know, abusive behaviour, prostituting children, that kind thing.”

“Well aren’t you a little moralizer,” Nezumi observed. In his opinion, it was none of Shion’s business to interfere with other people’s stupid decisions. And dangerous and futile too. Why did Shion have to stick his neck out for strangers? Idiot. He was probably just trying to atone for past sins or something. Nezumi had yet to meet a person who didn’t have some kind of ulterior motive behind their supposed kindness. 

Shion shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I just want to help,” he mumbled. 

“Whatever,” Nezumi said, waving his hand dismissively. On the one hand, treating poor people for an affordable fee was quite a noble thing to do. But on the other hand, he thought he might know why Shion was doing it: to get the entire town in his pocket. Becoming indispensable to everyone was a fantastic safeguard, and Nezumi admired Shion for accomplishing it so easily. If he were in Shion’s place, he wondered what he’d do to charm the inhabitants of this dangerous town… manipulate the shit out of them, probably. 

“How come you don’t talk to them?” Nezumi said, though he thought he already knew. It was a superb intimidation tactic. 

Looking even more uncomfortable, Shion looked down at his work and said, “The town is dangerous. Talking isn’t gonna help me do my job.”

Nezumi had no idea how those two things were related. “Talking is dangerous?” he guessed. 

Shion nodded.

 _Sure, but not_ that _much…_

Talking was only dangerous when you were around guards like the ones at the logging plant, who took nearly any offhand remark as an excuse to bully people and throw their weight around. Oh. Guards. Where had Shion spent a reasonable chunk of time? The Correctional Facility, a place totally overrun by guards. Well, that explained that. 

Sometimes, Nezumi had to admit, he almost forgot how strange Shion was. Saw him as a normal, obnoxious boy instead of the closed-off, dangerous person he really was. This, Nezumi knew, was hazardous thinking. If he wasn’t careful, Shion was going to surprise him one of these days. 

Having finished eating, Shion stood up to go wash off his plate. And probably, Nezumi suspected, to escape having to answer any more questions. It seemed that neither of them could avoid interrogating the other. At least he had a valid reason. Which was that he didn’t want to live in the house of a stranger. But he was Shion’s guest, and it was none of Shion’s business to ask about his past. 

It seemed Shion had one last question for him, though. 

“Nezumi, what was that song you sang?”

“Just something I picked up.”

“Huh. Well it was beautiful, too. Just like you. You’re beautiful.”

Nezumi could absolutely not believe his ears. There was no way that was flirting, was there? What was Shion implying? Was he so socially stunted that he thought that was an okay bomb to just drop on his unsuspecting friend? 

_Are we even friends?_

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

Shion chuckled for the second time, and Nezumi decided it was time to go read a book and not think about life anymore. He was developing a headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up the song.
> 
> ALSO, I nearly forgot! What inspired this fic in the first place!  
> It's this AMV: [Stray Italian Greyhound](http://youtu.be/kVNm98A0ZOA)
> 
> Why? Because I saw this AMV before I watched No. 6. It's actually what inspired me to watch No. 6. Anyway, while I was watching this AMV, I tried to figure out what was going on so I could guess at what the anime was like. Because Shion looks so weird compared to Nezumi, I initially thought that he was the one who got messed up and taken to the Correctional Facility. (I may or may not have read part of the Wikipedia page. I don't really remember). Anyway, I thought Shion was the weird one and Nezumi was the normal one (boy, was I wrong) and when I tried to figure out where Shion's scars came from... well I had no idea about the bees, so I guessed 'experiments.' And as for where the white hair came from, I guessed 'shock.' And even though I loved what turned out to be canon, I never forgot that first impression I had of Shion and Nezumi - of Shion as the lonely, forgotten, runaway experiment, whose re-learns love and kindness from the beautiful grey-eyed stranger full of life.
> 
> I hope I managed to capture that feeling in this fic. It's a bit hard to explain to someone who already knows what No. 6 is about, I think. Especially as in my original vision, Nezumi wasn't really messed up at all. And he is a tad, in this fic. But anyway, you should really check out that AMV, because it's pretty darn great. (Vienna Teng is my queen ;A;)


	8. Land's End

One week later.

“So, can I come to the performance?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll get stage fright from seeing your ugly face in the stands.”

“Oh.”

Nezumi sighed and rolled his eyes. 

“That wasn’t serious, Shion.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Shion.”

“Can I come, then?”

“No!”

Nezumi had no idea why Shion wanted to see him sing, and he didn’t really care, either. He just knew that Shion wasn’t coming. Period. Was there a reason for this? 

…Sort of. For one thing, Nezumi didn’t want to embarrass himself on stage; he had never performed before an audience before, after all. For another, he knew he’d never hear the end of it if Shion _did_ like the performance, which he probably would, being Shion.

Shion frowned, not saying anything. The expression stayed on his face for a full five seconds, but then he shrugged and walked to the door, picking up his medical kit. 

“Fine,” he said. “I may be out late tonight anyway."

Nezumi was taken aback by Shion’s apparent abrupt change of mood. He couldn’t tell if Shion was angry with him or not.

“Why?”

“The butcher is overdue on his bill,” Shion explained flatly, opening the door. Before Nezumi could ask anything else, Shion had closed the door behind him with a soft little click. 

So the butcher was overdue on his bill… but Shion’s prices were fair, and the butcher was well-off, by West Block standards. Nezumi shivered, wondering what Shion would do to the man. Maybe it was time to go hunt down Inukashi and ask him about that… Or maybe Nezumi didn’t really want to know. 

But no, he had turned a blind eye to this long enough. He had seen Shion’s violent tendencies before, and it would be stupid to continue living in this house for much longer without knowing the full extent of them. Well, if the play went well, Nezumi should hopefully have a steady job, which meant he could move out whenever he wanted to. 

That was a comforting though. Even though it felt like… just a thought, not a potential reality. 

_Nonsense_ , Nezumi thought. Shaking his head, he went to retrieve his boots, still wondering how best to go about interrogating Inukashi. The thing was, he didn’t want Inukashi to interrogate him in return, which, given the other’s curious nose, was a likely outcome of any interaction. And Nezumi’s past and his relationship to Shion were not open to discussion, especially not to an obnoxious mutt-boy.

As Nezumi walked to the theatre, he continued to mull over the problem in spite of himself. It wasn’t very safe to have your head in the clouds when walking through the West Block, and Nezumi found himself dodging several grabby hands by the time he arrived. It was times like this he wished Shion’s influence had rubbed off on him…

But never mind that. 

As he walked through the doors to the theatre, inspiration struck. Why should he wait to get news second hand from Inukashi, when he knew perfectly well where Shion was going to be that night? The butcher’s. Nezumi had been there before; he could find his way to it. No problem. 

Thus decided, Nezumi made his way to the dressing room to get into costume for the morning performance. 

 

*** 

 

The butcher’s shop was closed when Nezumi arrived. He could vaguely see candle-light and movement in the upper windows, but the curtains to the downstairs were closed. Was Shion already inside, or had he already been there? Nezumi couldn’t tell, but he knew that waiting outside was a stupidly dangerous idea. He would have to find a way in. 

There was an alleyway between the butcher’s shop and the building next door, an alley so tiny that Nezumi had to shuffle down it sideways. It was lucky he was neither claustrophobic nor overweight, or he wouldn’t have made it, as it was even narrower at the far end than at the beginning. As it was, he snagged his superfibre cloth on the rough plaster walls, and had to spend a few tense seconds unhitching it. Behind the shop, Nezumi found a tiny patch of grey grass, shared between the butcher’s shop and the building behind it, which faced in the opposite direction. It was otherwise boxed-in by several dilapidated shacks, and was inaccessible from any other side. Nezumi knew that if he couldn’t get inside the butcher’s shop from here, he would be in big, big trouble. 

The shop had a back door. The lock was broken, but it had a chain bolt. Popping the chain bolt off the semi-rotten wood of the door was a hard task to accomplish while attempting to maintain absolute silence, but Nezumi somehow managed it. After waiting for a few moments just to make sure that nobody had noticed the quiet crack of wood and the metallic noise of the chain falling away and smacking into the doorframe, he soundlessly opened the door and slipped inside. 

He found himself in a dark hallway that lead directly to the front of the shop. On the left side was a door into the backroom, presumably where the butcher kept the meat refrigerated. He also passed the staircase that he and Shion had climbed to treat the butcher’s wife earlier in the week. 

As he passed it, Nezumi wondered why the butcher, who had seemed grateful, was late on his payments. Of course, Nezumi knew full well that people were tricky, and you could never trust the fronts they put up. But whether this was a misunderstanding or not, it would be interesting to see how Shion handled it. 

Now, to find a place to hide. 

The shop was actually quite small. It consisted of a counter with a signboard behind it displaying the type and cut of meat available for sale, and a space in front of the counter. There, an area for people to stand in line was lined on the sides with two display cases: a very, very small one which held a block of ice during the day, and a slightly bigger one on the opposite side of the room which held dried and salted cuts of meat. There were also some hooks on the ceiling which held dried strings of sausages, but all the fresh-ish meat was in the refrigerated room in the back. The room was quite dim, as the curtains were pulled across the windows, leaving only 2 thin rectangles of light from the space above them pooling on the floor. 

Nezumi couldn’t hide behind the counter in case the butcher went back there to actually pay Shion when he showed up. The refrigerated display case was much too small to hide behind, but the second display case would do, even if it would block a good two-thirds of his vision. So he slipped quietly behind it to wait for Shion’s arrival. 

After standing there for half an hour, Nezumi began to regret his decision to come and spy on Shion. What if Shion had changed his mind and wouldn’t be coming? Maybe he should have gone home first to check. _For goodness sake, Nezumi, why are you so obsessed with_ – 

Someone knocked on the shop door. 

A few moments later, Nezumi heard feet stomping on the stairs, and the butcher entered the shop. He crossed the shop with a few brief strides, stood at the door and said in a loud, gruff, irritated voice, “We’re closed, mate.”

A voice floated in from outside, so quiet and cold it could barely be heard. “Let me in, butcher.”

“I said we’re closed. Go away. Scarper.”

“ _Let me in, butcher. You owe me._ ”

Shion’s voice.

The butcher’s eyes grew wide, and he stared at the door in shock. But he quickly recovered, saying in a semi-pleasant voice, “Oh, it’s you, Doctor. Gimme a minute.”

Drawing back the bolt, he opened the door and stood aside respectfully as Shion entered the shop. 

Now both Shion and the butcher were hidden from Nezumi’s view, standing directly in front of the display case. But he could still hear them speak. 

“Good evening, Doctor,” the butcher said. 

Shion did not reply, though there was a pause. Nezumi could have kicked the display case in frustration. He had forgotten how quiet Shion was in public. 

“I – I know, I owe you the rest of the money for curing m’wife. I’m sorry, but I just don’t have it.”

Another pause. 

“Well, I had it at the time that we made the agreement, but I don’t any more. Times are hard, Doc.”

The butcher’s voice took on a pleading, wheedling tone. 

“Whaddaya want me to do? Go broke? I can’t afford that. I have to pay for m’boy’s apprenticeship. I have to buy m’wife the foods you said she should have. They don’t come cheap around here, yaknow. Please, Doctor, be reasonable, like.”

There was a hissing sound, which Nezumi realised was Shion breathing out very slowly. Then some nervous shuffling of the butcher’s feet. 

“I know why you don’t have the money,” Shion said. Nezumi tensed. 

“Oh, so you understand –” the butcher began eagerly. 

“Yes,” Shion said, but he didn’t sound very comforting. 

Another pause, in which the butcher and Nezumi both tried to figure out what Shion wanted the butcher to say. 

_Will you get to the point already?_

The butcher was hiding something, that much was clear. Whether it was something worth irritating Shion over, Nezumi had yet to judge. But he wished that this conversation would move along so that he could decide whether or not Shion was a raging lunatic or not. And so that he could stretch his cramped legs.

“I dunno what you want from me,” the butcher whined. 

“I want my money, or I’ll tell your wife about all the prostitutes you’ve been visiting,” Shion said. His voice took on a vicious note. “Because that’s why you haven’t got the money, isn’t it? Because you’ve been cheating prostitutes and wife alike? I know what you did to Hoshi, and I should charge you for that too.”

Nezumi started. Hoshi was the prostitute with the cut leg that he had watched Shion treat on the very same day that he had brought more medicine to the butcher’s wife.

“Y – you can’t tell Hiroko,” the butcher said. “She’s frail. It’d break her heart.”

“Should’ve thought of that before left me and Hoshi with two unpaid bills and a leg wound,” Shion said coolly. “And you have the cash, you’re just a miserable, greedy pig. _I should gut you like one of the dog carcasses you stuff those filthy sausages with_.”

Suddenly, something heavy was thrown against the display case. Nezumi gasped in shock as it rocked towards him, nearly crushing him. He took its weight onto his forearms, gritting his teeth and pushing back until it was set squarely on the ground again. Fortunately, neither Shion nor the butcher had heard him cry out; both of them were preoccupied by the fact that Shion had grabbed the butcher by the throat and slammed him up against the case. 

“ _Now, will you pay me, or would you like me to fulfil the other half of my contract_?”

The butcher squirmed, making the case shake disconcertingly. Nezumi kept his arms up and ready, just in case. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. He was sure the butcher was in a similar state. 

There was another moment of silence, which seemed far longer than the last. Someone was breathing loudly, and Nezumi realised with shock that it was probably Shion. He wished he could see Shion’s face, but at the same time he was - almost terrified of what he might see. 

“I’ll pay you half,” the butcher said through gritted teeth. “I really can’t afford—”

“ _All or nothing, scum_.”

The butcher did not reply, and Nezumi didn’t know exactly what he did, but suddenly the display case was shaking again, and there was the sound of someone getting punched. The butcher cried out in pain, and then Nezumi caught a glimpse of Shion to the right of the display case, in front of the counter. He was posed in a fighting stance, arms up, feet braced sturdily. Nezumi couldn’t see his expression very well in the gloom, but his eyes were gleaming unnaturally. 

As the butcher rushed towards him, Shion ducked under his arms, and as he straightened abruptly, he hit the butcher squarely under the chin with the top of his head. The man staggered backwards, out of Shion’s grasp, and shook his head to clear it. Then he started swiping at Shion again. The two passed in front of the display case, and Nezumi had to hastily tuck himself back behind it so he could look out the other side. 

Somehow, Shion had ended up behind the butcher, and was able to kick him behind the knees. This strike was effective, as the butcher fell to his knees. Shion brought his elbow down hard on the back of his neck, then pulled his head back and chopped down hard on his windpipe. While the butcher was choking, Shion let go of him and kicked him in the stomach. This caused him to collapse completely to the ground. 

Nezumi held his breath. Shion stood over his opponent with fists clenched, the ferocious scowl on his face semi-illuminated by one of the two thin slits of light. The butcher groaned and moved, and Shion kicked him in the ribs, three times, very quickly and precisely. 

He stood there for a moment, barely breathing hard, fists clenched. If Nezumi hadn’t seen him take out the butcher, who was over a head taller than him, in less than five minutes, he would never have believed it. 

Shion drew back his leg again for a fourth kick. Nezumi winced, accidentally hitting his shoulder against the wall. At that, Shion’s head snapped up, and he looked quickly around the shop. Then, he slowly placed his foot back on the ground. 

To the butcher, he said, “I’ll be taking what I’m owed from your moneybox now. If there isn’t enough in there, I’ll make up the difference in stock from your freezer.”

Then slowly walked back behind the counter and up the stairs beyond. 

Nezumi wondered if he should make his escape, but with the butcher lying right there on the floor it probably wasn’t a good idea. Of course, the man was in no condition to punish Nezumi for breaking in, but Nezumi didn’t want him to know that there had been a break-in in the first place. 

When Shion came back a few minutes later, he had a paper parcel in one of his coat pockets. 

“Your wife has control of the remaining money,” he informed the prone butcher. Nezumi wasn’t sure that the man was even conscious. 

“She also has painkillers for you if you need them tomorrow. You can’t get addicted to them because they’re made of willow bark, so don’t even think about it.”

Shion put his hand on the door handle, then paused and turned. 

“Whoever’s behind the meat box, you should come out now.”

 _Shit_. 

“Now, please.” Shion said firmly. He still had that gleam in his eye, and Nezumi had a feeling that if he didn’t obey, Shion might just drag him out from behind the display case by force.

He tried to step out gracefully, but his legs were stiff, and he stumbled on the corner of the display case, letting out a low oath.

“Nezumi,” Shion said, and there was simultaneous relief and anger in his voice. “Come.”

Nezumi felt like a small child who had been caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar, instead of someone who had just witnessed the village doctor brutally beating the village butcher over an unpaid bill and the injury of a prostitute. Nevertheless, he silently followed Shion out of the store, giving the butcher a glance as he passed. The man was bleeding from his mouth and nose but he was breathing.

Just before the door clicked shut behind them, Nezumi heard someone come down the stairs. 

It was something of a shock to be back on the noisy streets of the West Block, having just come from the tiny, tense, dark room. Nezumi had the feeling that Shion wanted to say something to him, but not out here, not now. 

It wasn’t until they neared Shion’s house, in a slightly quieter area, that he spoke.

“If you won’t let me watch you work, why do you think it’s okay to watch me work?” he demanded. 

It took Nezumi a moment to understand what he was talking about.

"I wanted to know what you did to people who don’t pay up,” he admitted. 

“You could have just asked me,” Shion said. “And I thought Inukashi told you.”

“Not the details. Just that you were dangerous.”

“Tch.”

Shion was silent for a minute.

“I broke his ribs.”

“But you didn’t treat them?”

“Nothing you can do for ribs but wrap them.”

“He can’t wrap his own ribs, Shion.”

Shion stopped in the middle of the road. No one was around, which was a good thing, because Nezumi didn’t want to think about the attention they would have attracted in the middle of the West Block. 

“Nezumi, I told his wife how to do it. And I left them painkillers too, you heard me. I know I’m dangerous. There’s nothing I can do about it. He forced my hand, you saw it. What do you want me to say? I’m sorry for defending myself? Yes, I almost lost control. So? What would you have done?”

Shion’s voice held genuine anguish. Nezumi wondered what had gone through Shion’s mind, back in that shop. He certainly had looked angry enough to kill, if pushed to it. 

“I wouldn’t have treated his wife in the first place,” Nezumi said, shrugging. 

Shion shook his head disbelievingly. “But I’m the doctor. Treating people is what I do.”

“Not if you’re going to break their ribs afterwards.”

Shion flinched. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to. It’s just hard – to fight without – well, I’m not naturally a violent person. The only way I can fight someone is if I imagine they’re –” 

He stopped abruptly, shaking his head. 

“If they’re what?”

“If they’re in lab coats that say ‘No. 6.’”

“Oh.” Tentatively, Nezumi said, “So, have you killed anyone in the West Block before?”

Shion shook his head. “Not under these circumstances. When I first arrived, yes. That was different.”

His eyes were very far away, and his whole face somehow looked flatter. Nezumi felt another chill of fear run down his spine. But he wasn’t afraid of Shion. He was afraid of whatever had done this to Shion. What had forced him to become violent, to kill. In the Correctional Facility and in the West Block. It didn’t bear thinking about. He almost wanted to say – _Shion, it’s okay. This isn’t your fault. I know, they tried to break me too_. But at the same time, he wanted to say – _Shion, you’re dangerous. One day you’ll see me in a lab coat. And then I’ll regret ever trusting you_. 

Did he trust Shion?

Somewhat.

“You can come to my next performance,” Nezumi said abruptly. 

“Huh?”

“It’s like you said. Why should I watch you work if you can’t watch me work?”

Shion’s face lost its flat quality and resumed its normal blank mask, but the normally jarring expression was comforting in its familiarity, if only for that moment. Shion blinked slowly, and in that motion Nezumi almost saw the corners of his eyes crinkling up. 

“Thank you,” Shion said. 

The two of them walked the rest of the way home in silence. The quiet was slightly uneasy, but each boy pretended they were lost in private reflection, and not trying to judge the other’s thoughts.


	9. A Lie of Truth, A Lie of Fiction

Four months later.

Shion was sitting at the table drinking a cup of cold tea when Nezumi arrived back at the house. To Nezumi’s surprise, Shion hadn’t bothered to take the coal dust out of his hair, and it was turning his shoulders grey. Although he had a book open in front of him, he was staring straight ahead at the wall instead. Every so often, he took a tiny sip of tea. Nezumi didn’t even think that he had noticed him come in. 

“Shion?”

Shion jumped. “Oh – did you just get home?” 

Nezumi nodded, jerking his head toward the muddy boots on the floor beside the door just for extra emphasis.

“Did something happen?” he asked. 

Shion shook his head, sending little showers of coal-dust onto the table. “No, why?”

“Your hair is still black.”

“Oh, is it?” Shion examined a strand of hair. “Huh.”

He got up absent-mindedly, taking the tea mug into the bathroom with him. A few moments later he reappeared, deposited the mug on the sofa, and went back into the bathroom. 

_What in the world is going on_?

Nezumi picked the mug up off the sofa so it wouldn’t spill, then decided to drink the contents – it wasn’t as if Shion in his current state would notice that it was gone. Then he did his best to clean up the coal dust from the table. One of the mice had walked through it, leaving little grey footprints across the pages of the book Shion had been reading. Just _The Happy Prince_. Nothing strange there. 

Now, which mouse had walked across it? All three of them were currently napping on the bed together. Nezumi couldn’t tell who had dirty feet. Oh well. If there were any more mouse prints to clean up, he’d make Shion do it. 

_Shion_ … Nezumi shook his head. Maybe it was nothing – or maybe it was something very, very bad. When Shion was acting strangely, there was no in between. Nezumi decided he had better make their dinner and found some bread and meat, which he put on the table.

When Shion came out of the bathroom, his hair was dripping wet and messy, but at least it was white again. He came over to the sofa, patted the cushions absent-mindedly as if he were looking for something, then plopped down to drip quietly on the cushions. Nezumi came over and started untangling Shion’s hair with his fingers, not minding the water that slid down his wrists. It was soft, even if it was quite damp.

Shion jumped and looked up in surprise. “What are you – oh. Thanks. I couldn’t find my hair brush.”

Checking inside the bathroom, Nezumi found Shion’s brush where it normally lived, on a shelf above the sink. Nezumi grabbed it and brought it back into the main room, but he figured Shion would try and use it as a fork or something, so he took it upon himself to continue brushing Shion’s hair. He remarked that it was getting quite long now and Shion did not reply, because he was reading again, much more slowly than normal. Once his hair was un-knotted and he was sitting in a little puddle of rapidly evaporating water, Nezumi put the brush back where he had found it. 

Done. Good. The two of them ate in silence. Shion picked at his plate, but even in his distracted state, he knew better than to waste food. 

Finally, Shion snapped his book shut. He swallowed the last bite of bread, and turned to Nezumi. 

“Hey, I have a question.”

“Huh?”

There was a strange edge in Shion’s voice – a kind of resolution, and Nezumi didn’t like it. 

“That night, four years ago.”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you help me?”

Nezumi was completely taken aback at the question. He was tempted to say that there had been no real reason. But that was a lie. The problem was, admitting why he had done it would reveal the extent of his feelings for Shion, and as he was currently trying to strangle those feelings out of existence, he didn’t particularly want to reference them. 

He shrugged. “Because you looked like a little girl?”

Shion blinked. “You mean I awakened your protective instincts? Like I was your little sister or something?”

“Sort of,” Nezumi said, wincing inwardly at the comparison of Shion to Izanami. Even though the protective instincts thing was accurate. “I guess I felt bad for you, because you had it worse than me, and I already felt sorry for myself.”

Shion looked very serious indeed. “I’ve got another question.”

“What is it now?” Nezumi said, rubbing his eyes and wishing he could steer the conversation away from this topic. Was this why Shion had been acting weird all afternoon? He had been waiting to ask this? But why?

“Do you regret it?”

The question took him off guard. “Regret what? Saving your ass?”

“Yeah.”

“Stop asking stupid questions,” Nezumi groaned. “Look, if I hadn’t taken you in, then you wouldn’t have been around to save _my_ ass, and I’d be dead now.”

“So you don’t regret it?”

“I’m definitely going to _start_ regretting it if you don’t stop asking me these dumb questions.”

Shion nodded. Nezumi felt distinctly uneasy. His instincts were telling him that something very wrong was going on here. He was about to ask Shion what was going on when Shion said abruptly, “Nezumi, I think you should know something.”

 _Oh, shit_. 

Nezumi’s stomach dropped. 

_Goddamnit, Shion. What have you done_? 

“I know I mentioned once to you that me bringing you here was just paying off a debt. But really, that isn’t true. I mean, it was originally. But, I – I’m just – I’m so glad that you’re here.” Nezumi’s fear changed to confusion. Shion’s face was so blank that Nezumi couldn’t even read his eyes. Was he afraid? Why? What kind of confession was this, exactly? 

Nezumi’s stomach dropped again, but this time the feeling was accompanied by a swooping sensation. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“If you weren’t here –” Shion licked his lips nervously, and the mask began to crack. He looked Nezumi straight in the eyes and continued, “If you weren’t here, I wouldn’t have let myself feel any emotions at all. I know it’s hard for you to tell, because I don’t really show them – but if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t know what it was like to feel happy, or proud, or to burn with anger, or to want to cry. Those aren’t all good things, but they’re so much better than what there was before, which was nothing. It was like I was dead inside, Nezumi. You can’t even begin to imagine that, can you?”

Shion smiled, then, he actually smiled. And for a moment, Nezumi forgot to be afraid. Shion’s stupid smile always did that to him – seeing Shion smile was like looking into the face of the sun. The warmth was contagious.

Then Shion hesitantly lowered his eyes. 

“Nezumi… I’m glad I met you.”

The name was said with an almost yearning emphasis, and the other words came out in a near-whisper. Shion leaned forward, his eyes still lowered. 

He pressed his lips gently to Nezumi’s.

Somewhere behind him, a rat scampered across the bed, making a very soft pattering sound. 

As Shion lifted his head, Nezumi spoke. 

“That wasn’t a thank-you kiss,” he said. He wasn’t exactly an expert on kisses, but this whole situation just seemed wrong to him, somehow. Shion wasn’t doing this solely out of gratitude. He didn’t like it. 

“No,” Shion agreed. “It was a good-night kiss.”

“Good-night, huh.”

Shion nodded. He sounded as confidant as he could ever be. Nezumi almost let it pass. Almost. 

He stood up, clenching his fists. “Something’s going on, isn’t it? Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Shion eyed him and took a step back. “Nothing is going on, Nezumi,” he said calmly. “Nothing out of the ordinary, anyway.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary? I come home and you have coal dust in your hair and you’re over here giving me fucking good-night kisses and crap, and you want to tell me nothing out of the ordinary?” Nezumi hissed, moving around Shion to trap him in front of the table. 

“Nezumi, don’t,” Shion said warningly. 

“Don’t what? You’re fucking lying to me! You just forfeited your right to tell me what to do.” Nezumi leaned forward angrily, so far that Shion had to bend backwards over the table in order to avoid touching him. 

Nezumi grabbed Shion’s collar and pulled him upright. 

Shion gritted his teeth. 

“Nezumi, don’t touch me.”

Nezumi ignored him, tightening his grip. “Tell me.” 

Shion scowled, but Nezumi ignored it. “Oh, you want to know that badly, huh? Maybe it never occurred to you there’s a good reason you should mind your own business! I never lied to you. A secret isn’t the same thing as a lie.”

“Yes it is,” Nezumi retorted. “Now tell me.”

“Let go of me.” 

“No.”

They scowled at each other. Nezumi could hear Shion’s teeth grinding together angrily. 

“Fine. I’m going to get another Forest Person who’s slated to be taken to the Correctional Facility,” Shion said in an angry rush. His eyes dared Nezumi to take offense. And that’s exactly what he did. 

He shoved Shion back against the table, hard. Shion cried out and threw up his arms to protect his face before Nezumi could actually hit him. 

“How dare you?” Nezumi snarled. “How could you possibly imagine that I don’t have the right to know that?”

Not only was Shion planning to do something very risky without consulting him, but it had something to do with the Forest People. His people, not Shion’s. 

_How dare you_? 

Shion did not reply. Nezumi couldn’t see his face, hidden under his up-flung arms. 

Nezumi leaned over Shion and placed his hands on Shion’s forearms, trying to prise them away from his face. Shion grabbed Nezumi’s shoulders and pulled him downwards. Their foreheads met, and a crack of pain shot through Nezumi’s skull. Then he was pushed backwards. As he staggered upright, Shion slipped out from between him and the table. 

“I told you to never attack me again,” Shion said coldly. “I didn’t tell you because I don’t need your help. I don’t want you endangering yourself when I can handle this alone.” 

Nezumi’s head was throbbing painfully. “Oh yeah, because you’ve done this how many times now? Once. That hardly makes you an expert in rescuing people. They’ll probably be on guard this time, which only increases your chances of failure. What would you have done in case of failure? Were you going to tell me about it then?”

“If I failed, I probably wouldn’t have come back,” Shion said, crossing his arms.

“What the fuck do you think I would have done then?” The only thing keeping Nezumi from going for Shion’s throat was the painful reminder in his forehead. “That’s why you said all that stuff, about being grateful, isn’t it? In case you failed? So don’t tell me you didn’t think of it before.”

“I meant what I said, Nezumi,” Shion said in a low voice. Then he shook his head. “I don’t fail at things like this. So I don’t want you coming with me. It’s okay if I die. It’s not okay if you die.”

“Who’s going to doctor all those scum-bags and prostitutes if you’re not there?” Nezumi demanded. 

Shion looked startled. 

“Idiot,” Nezumi snapped. “You didn’t think about that either, did you? You can’t just put yourself in danger like that. You’ll get yourself killed, and I’ll have to live with it. I don’t think so. I’m coming along whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“I don’t care what you want, because you’re acting like a child. You tell me not to endanger myself, but you’re walking right into danger yourself.”

Shion swallowed, balling his hands into fists. “Nezumi, if something were to happen to you, I couldn’t live with myself.”

“You goddamn hypocrite.” Nezumi’s posture mirrored Shion’s – legs braced apart in a fighting stance, hands clenched into fists but held resolutely at his sides, arms unnaturally stiff. They stared each other down from a mere three-foot distance. Nezumi could read both anger and fear in Shion’s eyes.

In the voice of one playing his final card, he said, “Nezumi, you can be angry with me and attack me all you want. But that won’t change the way I feel. I’m deathly afraid of losing you. I’m so scared that you’ll disappear from my side, and I want to prevent that at all costs. I don’t care if you hate me for it. Those are my real feelings.”

 _What… what kind of a confession was_ that _?!_

Nezumi’s stomach clenched. Even though Shion did look pathetic to him right now, he couldn’t make fun of him. It wasn’t because he had been overwhelmed by Shion’s sincerity, or because he was moved by the sentiment. Could it be because he felt – no, he couldn’t possibly feel the same way. That was ridiculous. He wasn’t afraid of losing this closed-off, dangerously unpredictable shell of a person. Shion was his friend and companion, but not his world. 

Right? 

“Tch.” Nezumi sneered. “You’re going to die from stupid sentiments like that.”

Shion shrugged. 

“Also I’m coming with you.”

Shion shook his head. 

“I’m coming with you, or we’re having another fistfight.”

Nezumi watched Shion’s face carefully, and saw indecision flicker across it. 

“Whose people are we rescuing, again?”

Shion stood down, relaxing his arms, though his feet were still braced. His expression reset, his brow settling to its normal smoothness. 

“About that.”

“What?”  
Wincing as if he expected to be hit, Shion said, “It’s not just anyone… It’s your sister.”

Nezumi crossed the room, making Shion flinch again as he brushed past. But he did not stop, instead going straight to the door, where he grabbed his boots, and his coat. Shoving his feet into his boots and his arms into his jacket he said curtly, “I’m coming with you tomorrow, and you had better thank your fucking asters that I’m too nice to hit the clinically stupid.”

He threw open the door and stomped out into the night.


	10. In Falsity's Company

The next morning. 

After a night spent at Inukashi’s, which he hadn't actually paid for, Nezumi showed up outside Shion’s door just as the sun’s rays were appearing over the horizon. After he had knocked, the door opened slowly. 

Shion had large dark circles under his eyes. When he saw it was Nezumi, his eyes flashed once, then were flat again, but Nezumi could not identify the emotion he had seen. Had it been positive or negative? He couldn’t even tell that much.

It seemed, however, as if Shion was ready to go. He had on the dark long-coat he normally wore to go out doctoring, though his hair wasn’t coal-dusted. Beneath the coat he was carrying a pouch of some kind, which doubtless contained such things as smoke-bombs and lockpicks. 

Nezumi, who had left the night before without his scarf, had to come inside and quickly wraped himself up. Once that was done, he turned to Shion and asked how they were getting to the forest this time. 

Shion did not reply, but walked to the door. 

Nezumi asked again. “Shion, how are we getting there?”

When Shion did not answer, he said impatiently, “I’m not going to try reading your mind like those fools in town do. I’m pissed at you for a damn good reason, so grow up and answer me.”

“I stole a car.” 

Shion was using his city voice, alright. 

_When? Last night? No wonder he looks tired_. 

Shion led Nezumi into the forest, and they walked for some ways until they came to a road. Fortunately, their little stroll was much shorter than the one Shion had taken Nezumi on the night he first arrived at West Block. It seemed like so much had happened since then. Shion was no longer a stranger, though he was now officially a nuisance. And that was putting it mildly. He wasn’t just annoying, aggravating, and anger-inducing, he was dangerous. Nezumi had known it from the start, yet he had stayed. Why? Because it was easier. Because he had been begged. Because Shion obviously needed him. 

He didn’t owe Shion anything. Their debt had been settled, in Nezumi’s mind at least. But. _But_ , he couldn’t think of any reason to leave that outweighed the feelings he had that made him want to stay. And that was the really dangerous part. 

Nezumi thought again about how Shion had been willing to go waltzing off into danger without him and gritted his teeth. 

“Hey, Shion,” he said.

Shion looked at him flatly.

“Promise me something.”

“What?”

“Never keep a secret from me again.”

Shion shook his head. 

“If I can’t trust you, I’m not staying in your house,” Nezumi said evenly. 

After hesitating for a moment, Shion said, “Fine. I promise.”

Nezumi was surprised at the ease with which he had extracted that promise, but it didn’t seem to have made the climate between them any friendlier. 

Shion spoke. “Nezumi, you really need to stop attacking me.”

“You deserved it,” Nezumi said harshly. 

“I know. I did. And it’s not that I think you’re really going to harm me, because I don’t. I trust you. But it brings up bad memories.”

Well that wasn’t an excuse Nezumi had been expecting to hear. Was that why Shion looked like he hadn’t gotten any sleep? Because he had been up reliving his past, thanks to Nezumi? And what was with that “I trust you” bullshit? How could Shion say that, when Nezumi had tried to hurt him time and time again? If Nezumi were Shion, he wouldn’t trust himself. Shion was absolutely crazy. Nezumi didn’t want the burden of his trust anyway. 

“It’s okay, though. You didn’t know,” Shion added.

“But I can’t just let you get away with pulling this crap,” Nezumi said, which meant, _even though I know now, I still wouldn’t have stopped myself from trying to punch you in the face_. 

“Leaving for the night was bad enough,” Shion said, a tinge of darkness creeping into his tone. 

Nezumi might have replied, had they not arrived at a car parked at the side of the road. 

This time it was a truck, a grey, rusting, slightly muddy one. Nezumi hopped into the passenger’s side, and Shion started the engine. To Nezumi’s great regret, the truck didn’t have working seatbelts. He hoped it would be a smoother ride than last time. 

“So what’s the plan?” he said. 

Shion put the truck into gear, and with a lurch they were off. It seemed Nezumi’s backside would _not_ be spared another bruising ride.

“A roadblock isn’t going to work this time. I’ve got some spikes. We’re going to _make_ them stop.” Shion’s replies were curt. It seemed he wasn’t giving Nezumi the silent treatment after all. He was just… focused.

“Why don’t we rescue her before she’s captured?” To Nezumi, this seemed like a far more logical course of action. 

“Because then they might suspect the town of hiding her.”

Oh yeah… that was actually a good point. Sometimes the guards did random inspections of people’s houses, and Nezumi and his family had been subjected to several. It involved guards with guns and billy clubs barging in through their lock-less door at around dinner time, then dumping the contents of everyone’s shelves and drawers on the ground. They would pull all the stuffing out of the mattresses, eat any food they found, and leer at Nezumi’s mother, grandmother, and sister the entire time. On one memorable occasion, Nezumi had acquired a small knife-scar from a guard who had actually started running his hands over Izanami. He shuddered to think what a purposeful inspection would be like, and was glad Shion had planned against that possibility. 

They turned a corner at a very high velocity, and Nezumi braced himself against the door. 

“Where did you learn to drive?” he complained. 

“Self-taught.” 

_Obviously_. 

The ride was just as bumpy as the first one. At least this time Nezumi could brace himself with his hands, as they were no longer cuffed behind him. Even so, he was glad when Shion finally stopped the car and hopped out. 

“We have to watch the road,” Shion explained. The two of them walked back to nearest fork in the road, then turned onto the main road and walked along it a little ways. When they had reached a certain point, Shion seemed satisfied, and they found a tree at the side of the road that was suitable to climb and hide in. The trees were in full leaf, so it wasn’t a hard task. Once settled comfortably in the tree, they started waiting. 

“Shion, are you sure they’re going to pass by here?” Nezumi was not going to leave all the particulars of this plan to Shion – not without questioning them, anyway. 

Shion nodded. 

“And that they haven’t passed by yet?”

Another nod. 

“And that they’ll take the same road back?”

“Nezumi,” Shion said tightly. Nezumi gave him a long look. Shion took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m irrationally nervous, and I don’t really feel like talking. I know it’s hard for you to trust me, when your sister’s life is in my – our – hands. I’m just being weak. But I really – I really can’t talk right now.”

Not a confidence-inspiring speech, to be sure. 

If he had to carry both Shion and his sister out of there, Nezumi would do it. He was mentally calculating the logistics when a car drove into view. As it passed underneath their tree, Nezumi saw the guards in the car – there were four of them, like last time. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shion tense. They watched the car drive by and disappear from sight. 

Shion’s hackles did not go down. Neither did he climb down from the tree. 

“Weren’t you going to put spikes on the road?” Nezumi prompted. 

Shion nodded. 

“Well?” said Nezumi. Damnit, he should have made Shion take them straight to the village, risk of raids or not. 

Shaking his head, Shion said in a low voice, “Something’s wrong.”

“What? How can you tell?” Worry bubbled up in Nezumi’s stomach. 

“Something just is,” Shion said urgently. Without further ado, he slid down the tree. “We’re going straight to town.”

“What if they’re leaving town as we arrive?” Nezumi called, hurrying after Shion. 

“Then we’ll use the truck itself as a roadblock.”

They jogged over to their stolen truck, hopped back in, and were soon speeding down the road after the other car. Shion’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed dead ahead. Nezumi barely noticed the bumps that jolted him out of his seat, but automatically righted himself. 

What had Shion seen that had made him abandon the plan? When they got to town, what would they find? 

He could feel his pulse hammering in his wrists, fighting against the sleeves of his shirt, which suddenly felt far too tight. His blood was thrumming in his ears. 

_If someone lays a hand on my sister... I’ll tear them to pieces_!

As they approached the labour camp, Nezumi felt a strange tightening in his chest, a feeling he couldn’t at first identify. Then he understood. He was having a physical reaction against returning to the place he had hated being confined in for most of his remembered life. He had never seen the town from this particular access road before, but it seemed the same as ever – overly neat rows of concrete bunkers masquerading as houses, each with four tiny, cloudy, square windows set into them like the sunken-in eyes of an old man with cataracts. The cheap tin roofing had left streaks of green and grey and black down the sides of these bunkers. Laundry lines of patched, stained rags of clothing were strung between them, their contents flapping gently in the breeze. Other than that, there were no signs of life; not a single Forest Person could be seen. 

That could only mean one thing. The guards were in town. And something bad was going on because of it. 

Suddenly, there was a high-pitched scream, loud enough to pierce the glass walls of the van. Nezumi gasped, and Shion twitched reflexively, nearly sending the truck flying off the road. Both boys held on for dear life as Shion slammed on the breaks, wrenching the car back onto the road. They skidded to a stop in front of Nezumi’s house, almost running into the wall.

Just as they stopped, they heard the door on the other end of the house open so hard it slammed against the wall. Nezumi jumped out of the truck, but found his knees were too shaky to carry him away from it. Shion also staggered out, putting his hands onto the bonnet to keep him upright. 

It was then that Nezumi saw her – his sister, struggling in the grip of two guards, one of whom was holding a gun to her head.

Forcing his weak legs to work, Nezumi ran towards her. 

“Izanami!” he yelled. This was a mistake, because it attracted the guards’ attention. A third guard, who was just emerging from the house, turned towards Nezumi and started shooting at him. Quickly, Nezumi threw his superfibre cloak in front of him, but with it shielding his face he could barely see far enough to run forward. A bullet hit him squarely in the chest, and while it didn’t stop him, it still made him feel as if he had been smacked in the ribcage with a blunt instrument of some kind. 

_Izanami, no… they’re taking you away…_

Then Nezumi heard a yell. Peeking out over the top of the cloth, he saw Shion tackle the guard who was shooting at him. _Shion_!

The two guards dragging Izanami had only a few feet left to make it to their car. Nezumi sprinted towards them. One of them loosed a few half-hearted shots in his direction, but with Izanami screaming and struggling as she was, the shots were so wide Nezumi didn’t even bother to shield himself. 

Just as Nezumi reached them, one of the guards was opening the car door. Nezumi latched onto the other guard and tried to rip him away from Izanami, but Izanami, wild with panic, was flailing so much that he couldn’t avoid her fists and injure the guard at the same time. 

At that moment, Nezumi heard Shion cry out behind him. Instinctively, he turned his head to see what was going on, and that was the opening the guard he was fighting needed to wrench himself out of Nezumi’s grasp. He threw Izanami into the car and then brought the butt of his gun down on Nezumi’s forehead. Everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why didn't the guard kill Nezumi? Answer: luck. Other answer: Deus ex machina. I re-wrote this chapter like five times, and I'm sick to death of it, so it's just going to have to be like this. Sumimasen.


	11. Act One, Scene Two

When Nezumi came to, he was lying on the bed inside his house. Shion was hovering over him, looking anxious. One of his arms was bandaged. Next to Shion was Nezumi’s grandmother, with bandaged wrists, evidence that she too had fought for Izanami. Her mouth was set in a grim line. 

Nezumi remembered what had happened and closed his eyes. 

“Izanami,” he said. 

No one spoke. 

“She’s gone, isn’t she?”

Nezumi opened his eyes, intending to look accusingly at Shion, but of course, it was partly his fault too, wasn’t it? 

Besides, Shion already looked as if he felt as bad as Nezumi did, maybe worse. His lips were pressed together so tightly the skin around them was turning white, and he wouldn’t look Nezumi in the eyes. 

“Yes, she is,” Nezumi’s grandmother answered. 

Nezumi sat up, folding his arms. 

“She’s in the Correctional Facility, isn’t she?”

Nezumi’s grandmother looked at Shion, who nodded. 

“Your friend here caught one of those guards. I asked him nicely all about it,” Nezumi’s grandmother said. 

Translation: She had viciously interrogated him. Nezumi knew his grandmother too well to believe she could be anything but cruel to a No. 6 official. 

No matter. The man deserved it, in Nezumi’s opinion. That's what you get for kidnapping someone's little sister.

Nezumi looked from Shion to his grandmother and back again. 

“You can’t be thinking of going there, Nezumi,” said his grandmother.

“But we don’t have any choice,” Shion blurted out, then twitched violently and covered his mouth with one hand.

Nezumi _had_ been thinking of going there, but he knew it was madness. It was most likely that he and Shion would die there, if they went. Why, then, was Shion so certain that it would be necessary to go? 

“We don’t?”

Shion shook his head, and said nothing more. Nezumi’s grandmother cast a sharp eye on Shion, who slowly lowered his hand. His face completely lacked all colour.

“Son, if you have a voice, you should use it,” Nezumi’s grandmother said impatiently. 

Shion looked as if he would rather die that speak, but he said, “I can’t go back there.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a terrible, terrible place.” Shion nearly choked on the second “terrible.”

“Then why did you just say we have to go?” Nezumi asked. 

Shion looked down at his feet. “You don’t want Izanami back?”

“Of course I do!” Nezumi snapped. 

_Just tell me what you’re thinking plainly, for once_!

“And?” Nezumi’s grandmother prompted. 

“Well – it’s my fault she’s gone, isn’t it?” Shion was actually hanging his head, though his expression remained unchanged. 

Was it Shion’s fault? His plan had been good. But why had he felt the need to abandon it midway? Maybe if they had stayed where they were and stuck to the plan, Izanami wouldn’t have been taken away. 

Nezumi almost felt a twinge of anger towards Shion. _Almost_. Because it wasn’t really Shion’s fault. It was, again, the fault of that infernal, pernicious city, No. 6!

Besides, them arriving when they did had probably saved Nezumi’s grandmother’s life. 

“Don’t be stupid, boy. You aren’t the one breaking into people’s houses with guns,” she said, echoing Nezumi’s thoughts.

“We still have to get her back,” Shion insisted.

“Well, of course,” said Nezumi. 

“You will die if you go,” Nezumi’s grandmother warned them. “You want your mother to lose two children instead of one?”

That was her typical survivalist mentality. If she had been talking about anyone else, Nezumi would have agreed. But Izanami was his sister, his only sister, and if it was within his power to save her, then he had to do it. He had to. The idea of losing her was unthinkable. Even though the clenching in his gut told him it was a real possibility. 

“And, there’s - the Hunt,” Shion said.

“The Hunt?”

Shion looked like he was going to clam up again, but Nezumi was at the limit of his patience. He grabbed Shion’s arms and said, “Shion, for God’s sake, just tell me what is going on!”

Shion took a deep breath and seemed to compose himself. Then he said, “The guard – he said a Hunt is coming.”

“He did?” Nezumi’s grandmother asked. 

“Well, he implied it.”

“Mm. Well, what is it?”

“The Hunt is… it’s a slaughter. They have them in the West Block sometimes. They bring in tanks and guns and just… clean out the town. And, they’re planning to have one here, in the Forest. In three days.”

Nezumi felt a sick feeling settle into the pit of his stomach and let go of Shion’s arms, letting his hands drop back into his lap. _In three days…_

“And going to the Correctional Facility is going to stop that somehow?” he guessed, hoping. 

Shion hesitated. “Well.” He swallowed. “There’s a chance that we might be able to postpone it. That’s the best we can hope for. If we destroy enough while we’re there, they’ll be too busy fixing it to kill people. I don’t know what we’d do after that.”

“It would give us time…” Nezumi murmured. But his mind was elsewhere. If they destroyed enough… this might be his chance. His chance to take down No. 6 from the inside. Could they take down the entire Correctional Facility? He knew without asking that Shion would say that was impossible. But at the very least, they could try. If Nezumi got himself killed in the process, he didn’t even know if he would care. Just as long as he took out a good chunk of No. 6 with him. 

The voice of his grandmother snapped him back to reality. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t stop anything. If you try, you’ll get nothing but death.” 

Shion nodded distantly. 

Nezumi said, “I’m not letting Izanami stay there if there’s still a chance we could save her.”

 _How many times do I have to tell you people_?

“Your mother will cry, Nezumi.”

Nezumi thought about his parents, about how they always tried to make the best of things for him and his sister, in spite of their unnaturally restricted lives. If he could cripple No. 6, maybe they could be free. 

“She’ll live,” Nezumi said curtly. 

“We won’t,” Shion muttered. Before Nezumi could reply to that he said, “Well, you probably will.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“The shock of going back will probably kill me, never mind the men with guns.”

“You really think that?”

Shion bit his lip, shifting to support his injured arm with the other hand. 

“Well, ever since I escaped, I’ve been making plans in case one day I got recaptured. But every time I imagine carry them out, I just…” Shion’s voice trailed off. 

“If you survived it once, you can do it again,” Nezumi’s grandmother said. Both boys looked at her in surprise. 

She folded her arms. “But at what cost?”

Shion shook his head. “Look, let’s just stop talking about it. I’ll go. I’ll go back. We’ll rescue Izanami, blow up a few things, and leave. I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

Though Shion sounded emotionless and distant again, Nezumi’s heart leaped with an intense, angry excitement at his words. _This is my chance_!

“Fine. How soon can we go?”

“Tomorrow,” said Shion. “Tomorrow morning. They want her alive, so we can afford to wait. But I need the night to… think about things.”

That was fine with Nezumi. Better to wait, if they could afford to, so that they weren’t blindly rushing in. 

“Also, you should leave here,” Shion said to Nezumi’s grandmother. “Just in case they send more men to clean out this house. It’s happened before.”

“I’ll wait for Nezumi’s parents to get home from work. I’ll take them into the Forest,” Nezumi’s grandmother said. “I still know a few of the old places that will protect us.” Her eyes glittered. 

“Good,” said Nezumi. 

“Let’s go home,” said Shion. 

Nezumi nodded. 

 

***

 

In the car on the way home, Shion said, “Nezumi, you do realise how dangerous this is, right? People go into the Correctional Facility, but they never come out.”

“You came out,” said Nezumi. 

“Yes, but… I don’t know if I can do it again.”

“Of course you can.”

Shion shook his head and fell silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the following chapter, there will be wildly out-of-character fluff. You have been warned.
> 
> By the way, Nezumi's grandmother interrogating that guard off-screen is the substitute for what happened with Nezumi and Fura in canon. I know, this is pretty pathetic in comparison. But I don't have time... to write nine novels worth of action... and this story is already over 30,000 words long... ^^;;  
> ごめん、ごめん、 ほんと に ごめん ;A;


	12. Blackout

As Nezumi and Shion prepared for bed that night, the mood in the small underground room was conspicuously subdued. There was a feeling of heavy weight in the air, of anticipation. Even though the time had finally come for Nezumi to fight back against No. 6 – something he’d been wishing to do all his life – he knew they were about to start an extremely risky business. When people went into the Correctional Facility, they didn’t come out. Nezumi wasn’t excited or happy to go there at all. He felt eagerness, to destroy No. 6, and hatred and anger, which were fuelling him, but he also felt a strong dose of fear.   
And unlike in the past, when he’d imagined this day coming, now he finally had something to lose, something worth more than his own life.

Izanami, for one. 

Shion, for another. 

Izanami was the one being rescued. It wouldn’t do to worry over her until she was finally back in his sight. 

Shion, though. 

If Nezumi was acting quiet, that was nothing compared to how Shion was behaving. Like the night of the kiss and Nezumi’s angry departure (was that just yesterday? It felt like an eternity), he was very distracted, hardly eating. He was also re-reading The Happy Prince. Nezumi wondered if there was some connection in Shion’s mind between that book and the events that were about to transpire, or if it was just a coincidence that he was reading it again. 

When he had finished the book, Shion closed the cover very softly, then crossed his arms over it and sat staring at the wall in front of him, his expression completely closed. The mice must have known not to bother him, because they were all napping on the bookshelf together, instead of being on the table as they usually were.

Nezumi did not know this for sure, because Shion wasn’t giving any outward signs of it, but he could somehow sense that Shion’s mind was in great turmoil. If this had been the first week of their living together, he would have had no idea. But three months had elapsed, and though Nezumi couldn’t read Shion’s face much better, he could feel Shion’s moods. 

It was definitely bad for Shion to sit there dumbly like a sack of potatoes and think confused thoughts about the future. 

“How come you like that book so much?” Nezumi said, to break the silence. His voice seemed to ring strangely around the room, and Shion jumped. 

“Wh – what?”

Nezumi repeated the question. 

“Oh.” Shion was having trouble focusing his gaze on Nezumi’s face. His eyes darted around the room. Nezumi came and sat on the table in front of Shion, effectively filling up his vision. 

“My… my mother used to read it to me. As a child,” Shion said. 

Well. That was not the response Nezumi had been expecting. 

It was a comfort thing. The book reminded him of home.

“What’s it about?”

“A swallow and a beautiful gold statue with emerald eyes who watch over a town of ungrateful people.”

Nezumi laughed. “You mean, us?”

 _Even though your eyes are amethyst, not emerald_.

“What?” Shion looked confused.

“Never mind.”

“Mm.”

Shion went back to spacing out again, though Nezumi was right in front of him. 

“Hey,” Nezumi said indignantly. 

“What?” Shion was startled again. 

Nezumi shook his head, not sure what to follow that up with. 

“Do you miss her… your mother?”

“Yes,” Shion admitted, looking down at the book he was still clutching. “But I know that she’s alive and out there somewhere, so that’s okay.”

“Have you ever tried to find her?”

“No. I don’t think she’d want me back.”

“Why not?”

“Well, look at me,” Shion said sadly, pointing to his hair, to the scar around his neck. 

Nezumi put his hand on Shion’s cheek, and gently traced the scar there with his thumb. 

“Shion, it’s a mother’s job to love you even if you look like shit, do dumb shit, and say dumb shit. God knows my mother’s had to put up with so much bullshit from me and Izanami, and I know she still loves Izanami, at least. I’m sure your mother doesn’t give a crap about what you look like.”

“Yeah, but,” Shion swallowed, still looking down, “I’m not the same person as I was before.”

Nezumi moved his hand under Shion’s chin and tilted it upwards so Shion would have to look at his face. 

“You’re still a fairly decent person, and that’s what matters.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, dumbass. Why do you think I put up with you?”

He realised too late the implications of what he had said, but if Shion had also picked up on them, he gave no indication of it. Nezumi quickly withdrew his hand. 

“Look,” he said crossly, “She probably thinks you’re dead. You know what? When all this shit is over, we’re gonna go find her. Okay?”

“When all this is over,” Shion murmured. 

“Yes.”

It seemed Shion was going to go back to being unresponsive. Nezumi rolled his eyes and Shion didn’t even notice. 

“You know what? Time for you to go to bed,” Nezumi said, standing up. Shion’s eyes focused on his face for a moment, and he nodded. 

“Okay.”

On the one hand, Nezumi was totally disgusted with Shion’s apparent helplessness. If he was still acting like this in the morning, they were going to get themselves killed for sure. On the other hand, he still couldn’t bring himself to chew Shion out. What good would it do? Shion would be more miserable, and Nezumi would be more likely to die. Oh good, so their deaths would be partly his fault. Fucking wonderful. 

Shion stripped down to his boxers and undershirt and climbed into bed, not even bothering to fold his clothing as he usually did. Nezumi, though he was not in a particularly charitable mood, did it for him. Then he folded his own, turned out the lights, and lay down next to Shion. 

Shion always slept between Nezumi and the wall, and Nezumi tended to face the room away from him. But he could hear Shion’s breathing, and tonight it was refusing to settle into the calm, steady rhythm of sleep. Nezumi couldn’t sleep either, because it was earlier than he usually went to bed. But he hadn’t wanted to wait around for another hour with Shion staring at nothing.

Shion spoke. His voice was low and quiet. “Nezumi?”

“I’m trying to sleep, Shion.”

“Sorry.”

There was silence for a moment, a pregnant silence. Nezumi rolled over. 

“Okay, what is it?”

Dimly, Nezumi could see the form of Shion’s head on the pillow, but he couldn’t make out Shion’s expression. 

“I’m scared.”

 _Well, so am I, but I’m not stupid enough to say it aloud_.

“You’d be a fool not to be,” Nezumi said, moderating his internal reaction slightly. 

Shion covered his face with his hands. 

“Nezumi, I can’t do this.”

“Stop it,” Nezumi said harshly. “If I thought you were going to get us killed, I wouldn’t be bringing you with me. I’m not suicidal.”

 _Not like we have any other choice_.

Shion shook his head, still covering his face. Nezumi gently pulled his hands away, then held them clasped between the two of them. 

“I need you, idiot. You’re making me nervous, so stop fucking around.”

“You do?”

“No, I just like to hear myself say emotionally compromising things,” Nezumi said acidly.

Shion didn’t say anything. Keeping one hand twined with his, Nezumi raised his other hand and started stroking Shion’s hair. 

_What am I doing_? he wondered. Some part of his brain was screaming at him to turn away and tell Shion to just go to sleep and get over it. Caring for someone this much was not acceptable. It was a crippling affliction. _I am going to die_. 

But Shion was right here in front of him, beautiful and vulnerable and precious, and if they died tomorrow it wouldn’t be because Nezumi hadn’t been able to keep his hands to himself for five minutes. 

_I guess I’m too stupid to live anyway_.

“Nezumi, I can’t lose you,” Shion said desperately. 

“You won’t.”

“But –”

“Shh.”

Nezumi leaned forward so that their foreheads were touching, stilling the hand that was in Shion’s hair and put it back on top of their clasped hands.

He felt a gentle squeeze on the fingers Shion was still holding.

Nezumi could feel that Shion was trembling slightly. Squinting in the gloom, Nezumi could vaguely see light glinting on… tears? 

He had never seen Shion cry before. So this was what it was like. Silent, and all the sadder for it.

There was a hollow feeling in the pit of Nezumi’s stomach. _Shion, don’t cry. I’m just as much a coward as you. I’m the one who can’t even face his own feelings, and hates himself for it. Don’t cry_.

Nezumi tightened his grip on Shion’s hands, wondering what he could possibly say that wasn’t either harsh on Shion or self-depreciating. Shion squeezed his eyes shut, in an attempt to stop the flow of tears – or perhaps he just didn’t want to look Nezumi in the eyes. 

“You know…” Shion sniffed.

“Mm?”

“When I was in the Correctional Facility… the other – subjects, and me, we were always put into separate cages, so we couldn’t cause trouble… but usually I could reach their hands through the bars…”

Shion took a deep breath, then continued. “It was always comforting to me, even though my arms would go to sleep…” He gave a low, pained chuckle. “This is much better. I like being close to you.”

Nezumi’s instinctive response to that was scathing, but he stopped himself from even articulating the thought properly. At this moment, harsh words would ruin the fragile peace they were trying to create. 

So instead he gave a low chuckle, pulled himself up, and pressed his lips to Shion’s forehead. 

He tried to settle back down again, but Shion suddenly grabbed him around the waist and squeezed tightly, burying his face in Nezumi’s chest. Seeing that he wasn’t going to let go, Nezumi rolled the two of them onto their sides. Shion’s arm underneath him was a little uncomfortable, but it didn’t matter.

There was nothing to do but to start running his hands through Shion’s hair again, to softly stroke his back and wait for him to speak. 

“You make me feel like… like…” Shion’s voice was fuzzy, though his tears had stopped.

“Like what?”

Shion sucked in a deep breath. “Like I’m… safe.”

“Because I’m holding you?” Nezumi said sceptically. 

“No. Because you’re just you.”

Nezumi had no idea how he could make anyone at all feel safe, least of all Shion. But Shion was too stupidly honest and straightforward to be making this up, so his must have been true, even if they were wildly, wildly misplaced.

“Well that clears things up nicely,” Nezumi said sarcastically. 

“I can’t really explain it. I just know you would never really hurt me, and I can trust you.”

 _Just because I’m here doesn’t mean we won’t die tomorrow, so stop it. Don’t put that much faith in me_. 

But Nezumi couldn’t bring himself to say that either. In a strange, uncomfortable way, he almost wanted to be worthy of Shion’s trust. 

Shion slackened his grip on Nezumi’s middle and scooted back onto his half of the bed.

“Oof,” Nezumi said, finally able to breathe again. 

“Sorry,” Shion started to say, but the word ended in a yawn.

“Tired now?”

“Yeah.”

“Probably all those needless emotional theatrics.”

“Says the drama queen himself,” Shion said. 

“That’s drama _king_ to you,” Nezumi retorted. He thought he saw Shion's eyes do the little crinkle thing they did when a normal person might flash a smile.

“Goodnight, I guess,” Shion said. He rolled back into his normal position, facing the wall, and closed his eyes. Nezumi watched him for a moment, wishing to kiss him again. The time for that had passed. But there was something else…

“Shion,” he said tentatively. 

“Yeah?” Shion said, raising his head a little bit. 

Nezumi didn’t know how to articulate his desire, and he thought he might hate himself a little if he tried. 

“Wait,” Nezumi said.

Shion patiently lay back down. Then, Nezumi pressed up close against his back, putting one arm over the dip in his waist and fitting the other one underneath his neck to curl protectively around him.

“Is this okay?” Nezumi murmured quietly. 

“It’s wonderful,” Shion said, and his tone was one of… gratitude. 

_Thank goodness_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you about the fluff.  
> Forgive me, I couldn't help myself. 
> 
> Also, Nezumi is supposed to be really conflicted over whether or not to have feelings, let alone whether to express them or not. If it seems like he's thinking in contradictory ways, that's good. Because he is.


	13. A Stage of Calamity

The next morning, when Nezumi woke up, Shion was already awake. He was sitting perched on the side of the bed, fully clothed, staring at the room in front of him. He did not have coal dust in his hair, and he was petting all three of the mice at once. Tentatively, Nezumi pulled himself into a loose, hunched-over sitting position. His body felt sore from the bruising car ride the day before, but he knew he’d feel better after being on his feet for a little bit.

“Shion?”

To Nezumi’s relief, Shion turned his head towards him and said, “Good morning, Nezumi.” He must have seen anxiety in Nezumi’s expression, because he gently inclined his head and said, “Don’t worry, I'm ready.”

Nezumi gave an internal sigh of relief. It seemed Shion was no longer trapped in the anxious hell he had been in the night before. Or even if he was, at least he was functional. 

One of the mice in Shion's lap raised its head at Nezumi and cheeped in a friendly, welcoming sort of way.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting up,” Nezumi said, climbing out of bed to get dressed. He and Shion shared half a loaf of bread between them. Then Shion put his coat on and they walked out the door. Shion waved goodbye to the mice as they left.

“We have to get ourselves arrested,” Shion announced, as he lead Nezumi down the road, back to the place they had hidden the stolen truck from yesterday. 

“ _What_?” Nezumi said, hardly able to believe his ears. Had Shion lost his mind?

“It’s the only way in,” Shion said, shrugging. “I had Inukashi do some digging for me a while back, and he told me that all possible entrances are too tightly guarded. The easiest way to get in is to just get arrested.”

“But – but won’t they just separate us and lock us in cells?”

“Not if all goes according to plan,” Shion said. “They deal with escaped convicts differently to normal people. You just have to play along with me, and everything will be fine.”

They arrived at the truck, and both of them got in. Nezumi wished that Shion would let him drive for once. Shion put a strange, shiny sticker on the inside of the windshield, at the top, right below the rearview mirror.

“Play along with you?” Nezumi asked, wondering what the sticker was for. 

“Mmm-hmm,” Shion said, starting the motor. “Pretend you’re an escaped convict too. But you don’t want them to know it. And anything I say, you agree with no matter what.”

“Okay,” Nezumi said cautiously. Shion put the car in drive, and the bumpy ride began. Nezumi’s bruises from yesterday started protesting immediately. Nezumi ignored them. 

“You’re an actor. It shouldn’t be too hard for you. Just pretend to be in intense emotional distress. Pretend like you’ve been damned and you’re going to hell,” Shion said grimly. “That isn’t even a lie.”

Nezumi shuddered. “Anything else I should know?” 

“Yes. You’re going to see very disturbing things in there. Things which nobody should ever have to see. More death than you’ve ever seen in your life. I don’t know if you’ll be able to handle it. But I think you will. If I can force myself to return there, then you can bear the weight of going once,” Shion said, though he didn’t sound very reassuring. He spoke brusquely, as if he were making a prognosis for a clinically ill patient who couldn’t hope to recover, but only to maintain a standard of living. 

The car flew over a particularly nasty bump, and Nezumi had to brace his arms against the door frame. He had been unconsciously crossing them tightly over his chest, probably in anticipation. But he would be able to handle this, wouldn’t he? 

_Yes… I can handle anything if it’s for Izanami. And if it’s to destroy that evil No. 6_.

“I won’t let you down,” Nezumi said. And it was true. Believing in yourself was strength. 

“I…” Shion said, trailing off. Nezumi sensed that he was doubting himself again. 

He sighed. “Shion, you’ll be fine. I’m me, and you’re you. We can’t do the same things. We can’t be the same. But we can support each other like this. Both of us.”

“That’s another truth about us,” Shion murmured. 

“What?” 

Suddenly, Nezumi realised where they were going. They were heading straight for the wall. The wall into No. 6. A place he had never stepped foot in before. Was Shion going to try to enter the city?

“Wait. Shion – where are we going?”

“The Correctional Facility,” said Shion.

“Yes, but –”

“We have to get arrested for something, don’t we? We’re going to get arrested for trying to break into the city.”

Nezumi might have laughed at this circuitous logic, had he not been so apprehensive. If they were to get arrested for trying to enter No. 6, the guards would have no idea that their real target was the Correctional Facility. _Shion's more clever than he looks_. 

“So how are we getting in?”

“Delivery entrance.”

“What?”

“You know all those trees they force your people to chop down? How do you think they get into the city?”

Oh. The poetry of letting themselves get caught sneaking in through an entrance to the city that wouldn’t have existed without the slaving Nezumi had been forced to do all his life was not lost on Nezumi. 

As they got closer and closer to the wall, its huge shadow began to loom up above them. Nezumi saw, inside the shadow, that the road led directly to a sliding, garage-style door in the wall. Beside the door on each side were two large, imposing looking metal devices, each about the length of a logging truck, but only half as high. At the front of the metal boxes were scanning devices sticking up like periscopes.

Normally, trucks got into the city by scanning a sticker on the inside of the windshield which gave the truck clearance. The occupants of the vehicle also had to scan in the ID cards. That explained the shiny sticker Shion had put on the windshield. Indeed, as they pulled up between the two metal boxes, the scanners at the front end activated and scanned the sticker. Next, Shion produced two cards from his coat pocket, handing one to Nezumi. 

“Wave it at the scanner on your side,” Shion instructed him. 

Both Shion and Nezumi placed the fake ID cards in front of the scanners. 

The light on Nezumi’s scanner turned green. The one on Shion’s turned green for a brief minute, then shifted to yellow. 

A mechanical voice issued from a speaker on the side of the scanner. 

“There seems to be a problem with your card. Please hold; officials are on the way. Do not attempt to exit the vehicle.”

Shion started tapping his fingers, muttering under his breath. It took Nezumi a moment to realise that he was just counting, not having a mental breakdown. 

“One hundred and eighty,” Shion muttered, after what seemed like endless tapping. “Okay, let’s attempt to exit the vehicle.”

“But they just said -”

“Nezumi, we have to get out of here,” Shion hissed. 

“But –”

Ignoring him, Shion opened the door to the driver’s side of the truck. 

Immediately, the top of the metal boxes opened, and two rows of guns emerged from inside them. They were pointed at the perfect height to perforate the heads or necks of anyone in the car. 

“Do not attempt to exit the vehicle,” the mechanical voice repeated. 

_Here we go_ …

Shion looked unperturbed. “Now’s when the acting starts." His voice was very, very quiet. Nezumi inclined his head ever-so-slightly to show that he had understood.

The two of them sat there for only two more minutes. Then the door in front of them opened to reveal a laser gate. Behind that was another vehicle, a car, which contained four uniformed men. Nezumi felt himself sweating. But at the same time he wanted nothing more but to jump out and strangle all four of those men to death. 

Three of the officials got out of the car. One of them turned the laser gate off. The other two took out their guns and aimed them at the stolen car, one trained on Nezumi, the other on Shion. 

“Put your hands up and step out of the vehicle,” the first man said. Nezumi realised he was an Interrogation Official from the Security Bureau. 

Shion put the card in his pocket and complied. Nezumi followed suit. 

Once they were standing in front of their truck with their hands raised, they were beckoned forward. The laser gate was turned on again. They were trapped just inside the wall, cut off from their truck. 

_I hope that idiot Shion knows what he’s doing_.

“IDs, please,” said the main official, who seemed to be speaking for all four of them. He had very intense eyes, which did not smile. They bored into Nezumi and Shion like twin black holes, sucking away the will to resist, and above all, the will to lie. 

Keeping one hand in the air, Shion reached slowly into his pocket, withdrew the card, and handed it over. Nezumi copied his actions. The Security Bureau official glanced at both cards. Suddenly, he did a double take and looked up at Shion and Nezumi’s faces. 

“These are fake. You two aren’t from No. 6 at all. Wait a minute.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re Forest People.”

The two officials standing by immediately snapped to alertness. 

“Nuh-uh!” Shion blurted out. “We’ve just been away for a long time – and I forgot to renew my card. That’s all. Honest!”

The official didn’t even bother to question his pathetic excuse. “Your friend here has grey eyes. I know his kind of vermin. You’re trying to smuggle him into the city, aren’t you?”

“N- no, Rashi, sir!” Shion said. He was contorting his face into quite the grimace of anxiety, and to Nezumi it was extremely bizarre and surreal to see a real expression on Shion’s face. Except it wasn’t real… right?

The official did a double take. “How did you…”

He squinted at Shion, then got up close to his face and peered at his eyes. 

“You.”

Though his voice had been calm a moment ago, the man now wore a strange, cold, hungry expression. 

“VC-55142. Shion,” said Rashi in a light tone, a thin smile playing on his lips. “Who would have thought I’d find you here? I almost thought you were dead. How nice to see you again.”

“I – I’m not – I don’t know what you’re –” Shion stuttered in a panicked voice.

“Get in the car,” Rashi snapped, gesturing towards it. “You too,” he added to Nezumi. “I don’t know who you are, but you might as well come with us.”

“What? No, I haven’t done anything wrong,” Nezumi said, allowing fear to show on his face and his voice to suitably confused and deferential. “I didn’t know Shion was a VC.”

“No? Well, tough luck. Get in the car.”

“Where are you taking us?” Shion insisted. 

“Oh, I think you know where,” said Rashi, with another of those thin-lipped smiles. It didn’t reach his empty eyes. He inclined his head towards Nezumi, and Shion, and Nezumi suddenly found himself being shoved into the back of the car by one of the other officials. It was an SUV, so they were able to put Nezumi in the far back, with one official on either side of him, and Shion in the middle, with one official to his right. Nezumi felt a poke in his ribs, looked down, and saw that a gun was being pressed into his side. The man next to Shion was more obviously training a gun directly at his head. 

Shion was making a display of obvious anguish, fidgeting and glancing wildly around the car. Nezumi, playing the part of slightly less experienced criminal accomplice, kept casting anxious glances at Shion, as if looking for reassurance. He found none. 

“Let’s go,” said Rashi, who was in the passenger’s seat. As they drove away, the man pointing the gun at Shion growled, “Stop fidgeting.”

Shion put his hands in his lap and was still for about five seconds. 

“Hey, where are we going?” Nezumi said. 

“Don’t play du-”

“We’re going to the Correctional Facility, okay? They’re taking us to the Correctional Facility, so they can throw us in the Pit to rot!” Shion cried out in a tone of anguish. He started shaking all over. Nezumi had a very uncomfortable feeling just then – that even though they were under a high pressure situation, which relied on them keeping their heads and pretending certain things – Shion was showing his true emotions for the first time. Maybe on some level he was exaggerating them, or rather, twisting them to fit the situation. But this was his real self. And it was absolutely terrified. 

He felt a cold chill go down his spine. And though he didn’t know what the Pit was, his voice, too, held real fear and despair when he said, “No! No. Not me, not me, I’m not an escaped criminal. I’m –”

He cut himself off. 

“Do you really think that’ll really stop them?” Shion said, nearly screaming now. “They hate your kind just as much as they hate me!”

“I am not going in the Pit!” Nezumi replied, also raising his voice, and leaning forward. The guard who wasn’t pointing a gun at him roughly slammed him back against the seatback. 

“Shut up!” he ordered Nezumi. 

Rashi, who had been watching this exchange, said in a friendly sort of way, “Ah, so you’re afraid of the Pit, are you?”

From the very depths of his soul, Shion let out the most pathetic whimper Nezumi had ever heard. And that, more than anything else he had ever seen, made Nezumi suddenly feel as if he had been lit on fire with the coldest, coldest, coldest of rages. Burning. 

“You’ll never break us with your damn Pit,” Nezumi spat through teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached. “Just you fucking try.”

Rashi’s eyes lit up – just for a moment, Nezumi could have sworn that he saw the devil laughing from inside those eyes. It was a sight he would remember in his nightmares in the weeks to come – and there were many other things inside the Correctional Facility that would give Nezumi nightmares. 

“Shion is already broken,” Rashi said.

Shion was still shaking, but now he wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes. Nezumi could swear that his heartbeat was loud enough to hear - or perhaps that was Nezumi's own heartbeat he was hearing.

 _Is Shion really broken? Are we both going to die here after all_?

The rage clenched into a cold, hard fist in the pit of Nezumi’s stomach. But this feeling was very akin to fear. 

“Someone restrain him,” Rashi said in a bored voice, gesturing at Shion. The official beside Shion reached over to the arm of his seat and pressed a button on it. Two restraints sprung out of each arm of the chair, pinning Shion’s arm down. Four more sprang out of the chair back, pinning his torso. Shion gulped audibly and fell totally still. 

Nezumi didn’t even know what he was feeling anymore. The state of anxiety and rage he was in had left him feeling totally paralyzed also, but it was an anticipatory paralysis. He knew that at any moment he might explode into movement if given the opportunity. He had to struggle to keep himself under control, breathing deeply in through his nose and staring straight ahead, out the windshield in front of him. 

They all remained as they were until at last they pulled up in front of the Correctional Facility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, that's Shion's official ID number, from the novel. Only it begins with Qw, officially (Qw-55142). Because in the novel he's not a criminal...  
> (I added it to the wiki page, and Safu's too. Yer welcome, No. 6 trivia enthusiasts.)
> 
> Also, I hope you all can guess what The Pit is. That's right. Next stop: living hell. ~~Next stop: Shion's tragic backstory.~~
> 
> Also, end of book four.


	14. Those in the Abyss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! There are graphic depictions of death in this chapter. (Read: there's a mound of corpses that has to be climbed.) Please proceed with caution.

When they reached the Correctional Facility, Nezumi and Shion were dragged out of the car and into the building. Shion, when released from his bonds, put his head down and stared at his feet. He did not try to resist. Nezumi struggled, but got a jab in the ribs with the gun for his troubles. Rashi and the other officers led them down a series of hallways to an elevator, which all four of them got into. There were only two buttons on the elevator – up and down. Rashi pressed the one for down, and they descended what felt like a long, long way. Once the elevator had stopped moving, the door opened to reveal a room with white walls and a white floor. It was quite spacious. Thanks to the man-made light attached to the ceiling, it was suffused with a dusky evening shade. It was very clinical, clean, bare. It felt unreal, like a twilight place between two realms. A limbo of sorts. 

Nezumi and Shion were roughly shoved into this white room. Nezumi turned around, but before he could do anything the door to the elevator closed. It left no marks on the wall to show it had even been there in the first place. And they were alone. But it seemed as though the walls were echoing silently. It was eerie.

Warily, Nezumi turned back to Shion, who had put one hand on the wall to brace himself, and was taking deep breaths with his eyes closed. Those breaths were the only sound in the room. They reminded Nezumi of the panting of a sick sheep, or of a deer that is being chased by wolves and must hide, but can’t stifle its own pained lungs.

“Shion?”

He did not reply for a long minute, in which Nezumi started to become terribly afraid. 

_Have I made a huge mistake? Is Shion breaking down on me_?

Then Shion raised his head. He wore his customary closed expression, as if it were just another day in their little West Block existence. Nezumi couldn’t help wondering if there were just a little more distance in his eyes than there should be. Just a little more removal from reality. 

“Nezumi.”

Shion’s voice was steady. 

“Are you…?” Nezumi couldn’t help but ask.

“I’m fine.”

Nezumi nodded. Shion straightened up.

“This is the Waiting Room. There’s only one way out. Don’t even think about the elevator. We have to pass through the Pit.”

“The Pit?”

“It’s… a mass grave.”

A mass grave? In the basement of the Correctional Facility?

Nezumi could believe it. Much as he wished he couldn't.

“Let’s go,” he said grimly.

Without further ado, Shion led the way out through a thin passageway at the opposite end of the room. The passage was relatively straight and uniform in width, forcing them to walk single file. It was quite dark, lit only by a few bare, miniature orange bulbs lining the walls. But Nezumi had always been able to see well in the dark. 

At length, Shion stopped. Nezumi couldn’t see much over the top of his head, but he sensed that they had arrived at a big, open space. It was not lit at all, and it took him a moment to realise that he was seeing a large, irregularly-shaped mound of shadow, within the deeper, blacker shadow that was the cavernous room. 

Then the smell hit him.

If he had thought that the stench in the West Block was bad, it was nothing compared to this. Faeces, urine, old sweat, the rusty tang of blood, and above all, rotting flesh. 

Then, the sounds. Tiny sighs and pops – a chorus of them. The sounds of muscle collapsing in on itself, of life escaping from a body in the form of carbon dioxide, hydrogen sulphide, and methane. Like a choir of whispers from wretched ghosts, putrefying, decomposing, sighing in agony as their bones sought the oblivion of the earth but found only hard concrete and other corpses packed below them. Hundreds and hundreds of corpses, packed on top of each other, so close together they were melding into a giant mass of blight and rot. 

Nezumi felt bile rise in his throat and nearly choked trying not to gag and wretch. Shion moved aside so that he could see what he was smelling, though he already knew. 

More tiny orange lights flickered to life in the walls. 

“The lights stay on for a minute and a half,” Shion murmured. Nezumi barely heard.

There were men and women, children and the elderly, teenagers, even babies, rotting on the massive pile of corpses. Their limbs were skewed at unnatural angles, bent and broken. Bones poked out; skin ripped and shredded and hung from raw muscle. Eyes were staring and white, jaws and bellies distended with bloat. The faces of the dead were contorted into screams, their hands either reaching desperately or clutching hungrily, but all were equally dead. There was no movement except for the settling of bodies as something gave way from below. People were being crushed under the weight of others. Nezumi wondered vaguely if the people on the bottom had died from that, or if they had been put here in batches, and simply starved. 

Nezumi’s teeth began to chatter. He wanted to turn away, but he was totally paralyzed. He had seen death before, he had seen men be shot in front of him. But he had never seen murder on such a massive scale. Had never smelt the stench of death as strongly or as viciously as this. It forced its way into his nostrils, travelled up his nasal passages, and wrapped itself around his brain. A stupefying, paralyzing fog of disgust and despair. 

He might have stood staring at the corpse pile forever had not the lights gone out again. Then he fell to his knees and was sick. When he saw that he had nearly put his hand in a slick, sticky pool of dried blood, he was sick again. 

He felt Shion’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Nezumi, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do this,” Nezumi choked out between his heaving breaths. “You didn’t make this reality. This is No. 6.”

“Can you stand?”

Nezumi shuddered and tried to pull himself upright. His legs would barely support his weight, but Shion caught him around the waist and held him steady until his knees stopped shaking.

“Who were they?”

“The victims of the Hunt in the West Block. Old test subjects. Criminals the cells were too full to house. Even their own officials who died on the job or were secretly executed. If they can’t dispose of a body easily, it goes here.”

So many innocent men, women, and children… and doubtless some Forest People too.

Nezumi almost asked why he and Shion had been put here, but he knew. It was because the sight of this horrifying spectacle should be enough to drive anyone mad. Well, his body was betraying him, but he was in control of his mind. He wouldn’t let this terrible sight stop him from doing what he had come here to do. 

_Damn you, No. 6. I’ll – I’ll blast you, I’ll burn you, I’ll tear you to pieces. You hideous monster. You disgusting, hideous_ —

There were no words. There were no words to describe this horror. Nor to describe the hatred that Nezumi felt burning within him. 

Oh, but how he secretly wished he were not here. That he were elsewhere, anywhere but here. Somewhere safe, quiet, and dark. Back in Shion’s bed in that familiar basement room, maybe. The sick feeling welled up in his stomach again. 

Shion let go of Nezumi’s waist. The rush of cold air that replaced Shion’s warm arm was almost a shock to Nezumi, snapping him out of his tortured thoughts. He wavered for a moment, but then stood firm.

He heard Shion take a breath.

“Nezumi.”

“Yes?”

“We have to climb that.”

 _No… anything but that_ … 

That was what he thought. But what he said was, “Fine.”

“Are you ready?”

“…Yes.”

Shion was pulling on a pair of gloves. He handed another pair to Nezumi, who took them gratefully. 

“When the lights come on again, follow me.”

“Yes.”

In less than half a minute, the lights flickered to life again. Shion started forward, but Nezumi found that his legs were unable to move. 

When Shion noticed that Nezumi wasn’t following, he turned and looked back.

"Nezumi?”

“Shion… I…”

Nezumi hated himself in that moment. For being too weak. He wanted nothing more than to run straight up to the top floor of the Correctional Facility, strewing the corpses of uniformed officials in his wake, but he couldn’t even move his legs. 

_If there are people in this world hideous enough to create such a spectacle of evil, I should be able to bear it. Nothing created by humans should stop me, because I am also human.  
But I am not capable of doing these evil things myself, because I am not a monster_.

Was it true that being evil made you more powerful? Nezumi would not believe it.

Shion strode back towards Nezumi with crisp, terse movements. He slapped Nezumi across the face, then grabbed his wrist and started dragging him forward. Nezumi cried out as his feet were forced into involuntary motion, and the darkness drank his voice like a vampire downing a glass of hot lifeblood. 

“Sorry,” Shion said.

Nezumi wanted to reply again that it was not his fault and to stop apologising, but he could not speak.

 _No wonder Shion lost his voice_.

Seeing the dead directly in front of his vision, filling it, made the mound of corpses more real and tangible to him. Yet at the same time, he could barely believe that he wasn’t hallucinating. Shion let go of his wrist and started climbing the mound, not caring if he was stepping on faces or hands or stomachs or backs. It was as if the dead were simply boulders or rocks, there for the express purpose of placing his feet on.

Nezumi vaguely noticed that Shion’s fingers had left red marks on his wrist, but the gently smarting pain was keeping him grounded, so he did not mind.

“I’ll leave you behind,” Shion called down threateningly. Nezumi didn’t know if he really meant it.

There was nothing to do but grasp a handful of lank and brittle hair to pull himself up with and begin climbing. 

He did not know how long he climbed. He could have been straining and sweating there in the darkness for hours, days. He could not think, could barely breathe, could do nothing but reach for the next handhold or foothold. He placed his feet on people’s arms, legs, shoulders, buttocks, backs, even faces, just as Shion was doing. He wanted to tell each and every dead person, _I will avenge what has been done to you_. But he could not even look into their bulging, lifeless eyes. 

Each wrist or hank of hair he grasped was like a lifeline, pulling him up towards – not the light, but towards more dark. Nezumi couldn’t tell if Shion was directly in front of him, or if he had already reached the top. Sweat coated his back and trickled down his entire body. If it weren’t for the gloves, which were now coated in blood and filth, his hands would have been too slick to hold anything. 

From the moment he had begun to wish he could take down No. 6, he had prepared himself. He had decided that he would bear anything and face anyone to destroy the city he hated so much. He had thought he was ready. But his resolve had been blown to smithereens. It had shattered, leaving only stinging shards, which he was desperately trying to hold together. After experiencing this hell, could he still say with certainty that he wanted infiltrate the Correctional Facility?

He had thought he knew pain, suffering and death. But the aggressions of every day – the random shootings, searches, rapes, and thefts - though they angered him, he had become used to them. This place was slowly sapping his strength in a way that nothing else he had ever experienced had done.

Yet, he knew he had to continue. 

And maybe – just maybe – if he had known this morning exactly what he would see when he entered this accursed place, he would still have chosen to come.

Suddenly, his foot slipped. As he lunged and reached forward, he felt something soft and malleable at his fingertips. He had grabbed someone's face. His index finger dug into the person's ear. He tried to regain his balance, but his feet scrabbled wildly at the slick slope beneath them.

A hand reached out from the darkness above him and grabbed his wrist. He was pulled up.

"Nezumi, we’re here.”

“Here?” Nezumi said through gritted teeth, his body shaking from the exertion.

“Yes, here. At the summit. We’re only half-way, but from now on, we won’t have to climb over any more corpses – I think.”

That wasn’t particularly reassuring, but Nezumi allowed himself to be reassured anyway. It was either that or descend into the screaming horrors.

“Are you hungry?”

 _What? How can you think about food in a place like this_?

Nezumi stared at Shion dumbly.

“I said, are you hungry?”

“Of course not.”

“Mm, but you’re probably very low on energy.”

Shion poked Nezumi lightly in the chest, and he nearly stumbled backwards. Shion had to grab his wrist again to keep him from falling off the pile.

“Here,” Shion said. He pulled one glove off, took a bread loaf from his pocket, and deposited it into Nezumi’s coat pocket. 

“Eat that when you’re able. Trust me, you need it more than you think.”

 _Not here… not now… I can’t_ …

“And you?”

“I didn’t throw up. Besides, that’s all we had in the house this morning. I couldn’t go get more. I barely had time to contact Inukashi.”

“You went to see Inukashi this morning?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“We’ll need him later.”

Later. Nezumi didn’t want to think about later. He could barely stand thinking about now, but he would do it to survive. And he _would_ survive this.

“Where do we go from here?”

Shion pulled his glove back on.

“Up.”

 _Up? Up where? And how_?

Shion was untying something from around his waist. Nezumi saw that it Shion had been using a length of special rope, woven from an unusually pliant, durable, but strong fibre. Depending on how you used it, the special fibre could be used to lift over a ton of weight, or cut cleanly through a single hair. 

There was a small weight hanging from the end of the rope. 

“Stand back,” Shion said, and began whirling it around his head. Then he let it fly, and seemed satisfied to hear it catch on something above them in the darkness. Nezumi had the feeling Shion could make that shot in his sleep if need be. Then Shion shoved the end of the rope at Nezumi, who dumbly took it.

“Tie that to your waist. As tightly as you can, because we’re going to fly.”

With hands that barely shook at all, Nezumi followed Shion’s orders.

“On my word, we’ll jump,” said Shion. “Then we have to climb again.”

 _Again_?

“Up a wall this time.”

Nezumi gritted his teeth. _But I can’t go any further_! he wanted to cry.

As if sensing his hesitation, Shion put both hands on Nezumi’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes. Though it was dark, Nezumi could see that Shion’s gaze was intense, burning. He realised with a strange shock that the blankness that usually coated Shion’s lilac eyes had fallen away. But what was the emotion revealed there? He couldn’t tell. But it wasn’t madness or aggression, or anything else that made him feel unsafe. In fact, he almost felt as if he could see the sky in Shion’s eyes. As if they were long, dark tunnels, hiding blue, open freedom at the ends of them. Oh, if only he could walk down those tunnels and be gone from this place.

“Do you understand?” Shion asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. On my mark.”

Nezumi tensed in anticipation.

“Jump.”

Forcing his stiff legs into a crouch, Nezumi leapt, and he was half-carried by Shion through the air. They hit the wall, though the impact was braced by Shion hitting it first with his forearms. Nezumi realised that if Shion had had the superfibre cloth, instead of having given it to him, it probably would have hurt him a lot less. 

It was then that it occurred to him – _I’m endangering Shion’s life_.

There wasn’t even enough rope for Shion to tie himself to it too. He was climbing up the wall without any security of any kind. If he fell, he could only hope that he landed on the pile of corpses, which didn’t quite touch the walls. And even if he did land on the mound of the dead, there was still the chance he’d impale himself on a broken bone. 

Now he knew why Shion had not wanted to return. Yet here both of them were, climbing the wall together in the basement of the Correctional Facility. 

_Shion, I’m sorry_.

He wished he could say those words aloud. But even if he could, they would do him no good. They were here now, and nothing could change that fact. The words would be empty.

This was the part of the journey that Nezumi had been in no way, shape, or form prepared for. The guilt over forcing Shion to re-live his nightmares. It had been Shion who insisted they come here. But Nezumi had seen his discomfort, should have known...

The only thing he could do now was to keep climbing as quickly as he could, a task which was taking all his concentration. Several times he had to stop, and Shion’s voice always floated steadily and gently out of the darkness, saying, “Put your hand there, Nezumi,” or, “Look to your left,” or, “Move your right foot up just a little bit. There, that’s it.”

The patience Shion was giving him, even in the depths of hell itself, made Nezumi’s heart ache. But that, he could not have explained even to himself.

Nezumi’s fingers, searching above him, touched a new material – hard rock, not crumbling brick. He pulled himself up and found that he and Shion were in a cave. Not a man-made cave, but a natural one. 

Shion, who was squatting on the ground, looked up at Nezumi and said, “We’re here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I lied about Shion's backstory being in this one. Sorry! It's gonna be in the next one. Promise. :3
> 
> P.S. Can you spot the places where I paraphrased the novel?
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Please give me encouragement, I need to know people are actually reading this ;A;~~


	15. A Name for White Darkness

With calm, measured movements, Nezumi unwound the rope from around the boulder Shion had lassoed. Then he coiled it neatly around his arm and approached Shion, intending to give it to him. Shion was still on his hands and knees, trying to recover his breath. So instead, Nezumi placed the rope on the ground beside him. The sight of Shion crouched there on the ground made Nezumi’s heart ache bitterly. Shion was sacrificing so much for him. And Nezumi knew that any debt Shion may have had to him was paid long ago.

He ground his teeth together. He didn’t want to be the one who owed Shion. But no, better not to think about that now. Those thoughts were distracting and unnecessary when they still had many floors to climb. Scores and debts could be settled once they were no longer in danger of dying.

 _I’ll protect you, Shion. I convinced you to come here, but I’ll bring you out. I need you, but I sense that you need me too, somehow. We can do this together. I believe it_.

Nezumi held out his hand to Shion, who gratefully took it and allowed Nezumi to pull him up. He took his gloves off, putting them inside his coat, and Nezumi did the same. It was then that Nezumi remembered he had bread in his pocket, and realised that now was probably time to eat it. Though he could still smell the stench from the Pit below, it was less nauseating to him than it had been before.

 _I must be going numb_.

“Where are we?” Nezumi asked, ripping off a small chunk of bread. He found that he was able to chew and swallow it without gagging. And as he did so, he felt as if liquid strength were being poured back into his veins.

It was then that he realised how ravenous he was. But he stopped himself from inhaling the rest of the bread on the spot. If he was this hungry, wouldn’t Shion, too, need sustenance? 

“We’re home away from home,” said Shion cryptically, watching Nezumi. “Go on, eat.”

Nezumi almost complied. What Shion had said before was true, after all. Shion was acclimatized to this place, and he hadn’t thrown up, so he likely didn’t need this bread. But hadn’t Nezumi just seen him crouched on the ground, out of breath? Wouldn’t this place be taxing to the soul and body of any man, experienced or not? As he had years ago when they were both children, Nezumi sensed that Shion was hungry in a way he could not understand, and all he had to give was bread. So he broke off half what he had, which was already half a loaf itself. He hesitated in handing it over – his self-centred survivalist nature wouldn’t be silenced that easily. For a moment, he wrestled with himself. But then he realised that if Shion really needed this bread, they could die because he didn’t have it. So, Nezumi would probably benefit more from giving it to Shion anyway.

Or so he told himself.

He extended his hand. “You have some too.”

“What? Me? But you need it more.”

“No, we should share it. We’re in this together. Live or die, climb or fall, eat bread or go hungry. Take it.”

And after seeing the speed with which Shion wolfed down his half of the bread, Nezumi was sure he had made the right decision. 

“Hey, Shion.”

“Mm?”

“Why is it so light in here?”

Shion looked around. “LEDs,” he said, as if Nezumi was supposed to know what those were. 

“That’s some kind of light?”

“Yeah. Light Emitting Diodes. They don’t produce heat.”

“How did man-made lights end up in a natural cave? We’re not even in the Correctional Facility anymore, are we?”

“No, we’re not. And you’ll see.”

 _Fine, be cryptic_.

With that, Shion stretched out both legs and then started leading Nezumi through the cave. It narrowed down to a passageway, but then opened out again into a bigger area. This area was lit not by LEDs, but by candles. Their soft yellow glow was the most encouraging sight Nezumi had seen all day. 

Then Shion tensed. 

“Someone’s coming.”

A shock went through Nezumi’s body. 

_Somebody’s coming? Who? Who could possibly be inside this cave_?

“Get down!” Shion yelled, grabbing Nezumi’s arm and yanking hard. Both of them dropped to the ground, as something black sailed over their heads. Nezumi scrambled to get upright, and saw, at Shion’s feet, a grey rat, quite big. It had red eyes, and looked much more menacing than Shion’s little pet mice. 

“Why are you attacking us?” Shion exclaimed to the rat. Just then, it was joined by another of its brethren, which latched onto Nezumi’s shoulder. He cried out in surprise, though he felt no pain. The rat had only gotten a mouthful of superfibre cloth.

More and more rats began to attack the two boys. Shion tried talking to them, but they didn’t seem to want to listen. 

“ _Get off me_!” Shion growled, battering his arm against the wall. The three rats clinging to it dropped to the floor, and for whatever reason, the rest of them scuttled away.

But then, Nezumi saw: countless red lights were winking at him. From crevices in the boulders all around, red eyes were looking down on Nezumi and Shion. They were being surrounded by several dozens of sewer rats. These eyes flickered, seemingly waiting for the next attack. Who the order would come from, Nezumi did not know.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine.” Nezumi wasn’t even bleeding, though he felt more than a little bruised.

“That’s some welcome for someone they haven’t seen in years.”

To Nezumi’s surprise, Shion knelt down and held out his hand to the nearest rat. 

“Silver, you remember me, right?”

The rat snarled at him. Shion sighed. 

“It’s going to be like that, huh?”

Then he started reciting. 

_“Come and play with me,” proposed the little prince. “I am so unhappy.”_   
_“I cannot play with you,” the fox said. “I am not tamed.”_   
_“Ah! Please excuse me,” said the little prince._   
_But, after some thought, he added:_   
_“What does that mean--'tame'?”_   
_“It is an act too often neglected,” said the fox. “It means to establish ties.”_   
_“To establish ties?”_   
_“Just that,” said the fox. “To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world....”_

Nezumi did not recognize the words Shion was saying – but the rat did. As Shion spoke, his voice lost its cold, contained quality, and began to really fill the cavern, warmer and brighter than all the candles there. Shion was terrible at reciting, as his tone did not fit the emotion in the words at all. But it was as though his voice were rejoicing to be speaking familiar words. These words carried a sense of home, of somewhere safe and good. Nezumi was hypnotized. If only Shion would go on speaking like this forever. 

The rats, too, were hypnotized. The one at Shion’s hand approached and began sniffing his fingers. 

The corners of Shion’s eyes crinkled up, and he started stroking the rat, much as he had petted the mice in his house that morning. 

“There, see?” 

To Nezumi, Shion added, “I used to recite that story for them all the time. How could they forget?”

As he spoke, his voice gradually returned to normal. Nezumi didn’t want to say that the cave was colder now than it had been before – but it was. After such a sudden and strong outpouring of life from the normally restrained Shion, the void was felt more keenly than ever. But Nezumi could hardly have explained this to Shion if pressed, nor could he have said what to do about it. 

“It was beautiful,” he said, and meant it.

“That was another one from my mother,” said Shion. Then he raised his voice.

“By the way. Whoever is out there should really come down now. Your sewer rats won’t do you any good. They’re my friends.”

Even as he spoke, more rats were crowding around his legs. Even though the task was futile, Shion was trying to pet every rat at once. There were even some rats brave enough to approach Nezumi, and he hesitantly scratched them behind the ears. 

“You’re like the Pied Piper of Hamlin,” Nezumi told Shion in amusement. 

“What?”

Just then, a figure stepped out into the light. 

It was a girl, with short brown hair and a knitted purple sweater. As she approached, all the rats scattered, except for Silver, who hopped into Shion’s hand. 

The girl wore a very pleasant, mild expression. It was closed, as was Shion’s. But in her case, it seemed more as if she simply had no thoughts at all, rather than having many hidden, dangerous thoughts below the surface. She stared Shion intently for a moment, cocking her head to one side. Then, she peered at Nezumi. Something inside her seemed to snap into life. A spark of intense intelligence appeared in her eyes. A blush rose to her cheeks. Like that, Nezumi would have said she was even pretty. If only her abrupt change of mood hadn’t been so otherworldly. 

“Shion?” 

“Yes, it’s me – _Safu_?”

The girl, Safu, smiled widely. 

“Shion! You came back! But – why? What are you doing here? And who is this?” 

Safu’s face fell in dismay as she realised the implications of Shion’s presence there. 

“This is Nezumi. We’re here to rescue someone. Can you take us to Rou?”

Safu shifted uncomfortably. “Shion… you know you were never supposed to come back. He probably won’t want to see you.”

“But I need to. I have something important to discuss with him.”

“Who’s Rou?” Nezumi interjected. 

“My godfather.”

“Your what?”

“You’ll see when you meet him,” Shion said. 

Safu was still deliberating. 

“Well…”

“It’s about the Forest People. And besides, you know I have to pass through there to leave. You wouldn’t send us back to the Pit, would you?”

“Of course not!”

Safu looked offended. 

“Well then…” 

The rat in Shion’s hand chittered as if in agreement. Safu’s face softened as she looked at the little creature. 

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for you to request an audience with him.”

“Thanks, Safu. I really appreciate it.”

Safu smiled. Nezumi was beginning to believe that the strange, expressionless expression he had seen on her face when he first saw her was nothing more than a figment of his imagination. The contrast between her animated countenance and Shion’s flat aspect were almost jarring now.

“Of course I’d help out my old best friend,” Safu said gently. At this compliment, Shion looked down in what had to be shyness. Nezumi was astounded. 

Then Safu walked forward and hugged Shion. He awkwardly put one arm around her back. The rat on his other hand jumped onto his head so he could hug her properly. 

Nezumi was almost – strangely – jealous. Why should he begrudge Shion a hug from his best friend? Even if she was quite pretty. Even if he hadn’t known that she existed until this moment. Even if he knew that Safu had shared more experiences with Shion than he ever had. 

He gave himself a mental slap and waited patiently until the two friends broke apart. The rat on Shion’s head moved to a more comfortable perch on his shoulder. 

Shion turned to Nezumi. “Follow us closely, and don’t say anything unless you’re directly addressed.”

“As you wish,” Nezumi said, wishing he had some kind of sarcastic nickname to tack onto the end of that statement. What about that “Little Prince” Shion had just been telling the rats about?

 _He’s almost noble sometimes… when he isn’t acting like a wild animal_.

They made their way down another passageway, into a cave that was even larger than the first. As they approached it, Nezumi began to hear rustling, noise, movement of living things. His first thought was that there were even more rats here than he had first thought. But he realised that no – what he was hearing were the noises of people. Living people. 

Then he saw the flickers of light and realised that they had much more than candles in this cavern. There were handfuls of those, sure; but there were also lanterns, which illuminated the space ahead with a bright white light. 

When they entered the cave, Nezumi was astounded. It was like the inside of a honeycomb. First, there was the giant empty space, which the path they were on lead directly to the centre of. But surrounding this space was a network of alcoves, alcoves filled with the black silhouettes of people. Those which were illuminated by their lanterns and their candles were a very diverse and motley group. They were dressed in a variety of clothing, from labcoats to home-made garments, such as the sweater Safu was wearing. Their ages ranged from around Shion’s age to mid-30s. 

The one commonality to all of them was their expressions. They all looked blank, but not in the same way. Some, like Shion, simply looked repressed. Some looked like normal people who didn’t have much on their minds, no desire to comment, no interest in the scene before them. Some looked like Safu had when Nezumi had first seen her. As if they had been purged of all thought. The first of these groups made Nezumi slightly afraid. The second did not bother him. But the third terrified him, and he did not know why.

As the three of them approached the centre of the cave, a man stepped out in front of them. This man’s hair, eyes, skin, and clothes were grey. He should have been most notable for his blandness. But the first thing Nezumi noticed about him was the man’s expression. He looked angry. 

That was an understatement. The man looked murderous. 

Nezumi immediately stopped in his tracks and took a step back. The rat sitting on Shion’s shoulder leapt into Safu’s arms, and she retreated back towards the edge of the cave. 

“Sasori,” Shion said calmly. 

“Shion,” Sasori sneered. “I thought you were dead. You might as well have died, if you were just going to come back here with your tail between your legs.”

Then Sasori’s gaze fell on Nezumi.

Instantly, he lunged for Nezumi’s throat. 

Shion moved faster than Nezumi had ever seen him move, save for the time Nezumi had thought Shion might kill him. He dove between Nezumi and Sasori, so that Sasori’s hands latched around Shion’s throat instead of Nezumi’s. 

Sasori didn’t seem to care that he had caught the wrong target. 

“How dare you bring strangers into our midst?” he snarled. 

“Nezumi is my friend,” Shion coughed. “As you have… never been…”

He managed to pull free of Sasori’s grasp, but before he could do more than throw his arms up, Sasori tried to punch him. The blow landed on Shion’s cheekbone and sent him reeling back.

“You’re trespassing here,” Sasori said. “You need to learn your place.”

“I have the right to be here. And since when were you the determiner of who belongs and who doesn’t?”

Shion fended off two more blows, then managed to catch hold of Sasori’s forearm. The two of them wrestled for a moment, before a voice cut through the cave. 

“Sasori, that is enough.”

Nezumi, who hadn’t even thought of intervening on Shion’s behalf, looked up to see a man coming towards them. 

Coming, not walking; he was being carried. The speaker was elderly, and his face and voice were both gentle and benign. The two people holding the palanquin he was riding on belonged to the second category of people in the cave, those with uninterested but not vacant or closed expressions. At the elderly man’s word, Sasori stopped attacking Shion. So Shion put him in a headlock.

“My, Shion, you’ve become violent in the years since you left us.”

The man said this, as everything else, in an even tone, though his voice held a hint of gentle reprimand. Like a mother speaking to a stubborn child. The palanquin bearers deposited him, seat and all, onto a large, flat rock in front of Nezumi, Shion, and Sasori. This way he remained at eye level with them, though he was still seated. It was then that Nezumi realised with a jolt – the old man had no legs.

“I’m not letting go until Sasori promises to never attack Nezumi again,” Shion said. 

“Ah, I see. You found something to protect.”

Shion’s eyes flashed with cold mutiny, but he said nothing. 

The old man sighed. “Sasori, I’m afraid you will just have to make that promise. It was wrong of you to attack Shion and his friend. If they are a danger to us, I will give you the order to remove the threat.”

“They’re trespassing here,” Sasori said. His face was turning slightly pink from the pressure on his throat, and his voice was choked. “They don’t belong. I want them gone.”

“Now, now. Behave yourself.”

Sasori let out a wordless snarl. “Fine. I’ll leave Nezumi alone. Get your damn hands off of me.”

“Swear it,” said Shion.

“I swear it. Let go!”

Shion looked as though he wanted to extract a better promise. Nevertheless, he released Sasori, who gasped and took deep, wheezing breaths. 

“That’s better,” the old man said. 

“Thanks, Rou.”

The old man nodded. Sasori retreated to stand beside Rou’s rock, doubtless hoping that he would get the chance to attack Shion again. Safu, Nezumi noticed, had emerged at the same time as the palanquin bearers. She must have been the one who had fetched Rou. Now she was standing at the side of the cave, watching the proceedings intently. 

“You must forgive Sasori. He wishes to return to the outside world, and I have not yet given him permission. But, he is correct on one count. You should not be here.”

“I know. But it was an emergency.”

“Was it, now? Why don’t you tell me about it?”

Briefly, Shion told Rou how Izanami had been captured. 

“Ah,” said Rou. “And you hope to rescue her? I see. It’s a risky business, Shion. It would be better for the two of you to turn back now.”

Nezumi wanted to say, “Turn back to where?” but he hadn’t forgotten Shion’s orders to remain silent. He really wished he were allowed to speak, because he was bursting with questions. Who were all these people? Why did they seem so strange? Who was Rou? What was wrong with Sasori? 

Shion shook his head. “Nezumi saved me once. I owe him a debt.”

“No you don’t,” Nezumi said before he could stop himself. 

Rou turned a level gaze on him. Shion winced. 

“Young man, it does not do to interrupt your elders.” His tone was gentle, but his gaze steely. Nezumi felt as he had when he was a young child being told off by his grandmother. 

“My apologies,” he said, bowing slightly. 

This seemed to appease Rou. 

“Well, Nezumi. Why don’t you tell us this story?”

Nezumi sighed internally. Shion should have just begun at the beginning. 

“When I was twelve, I found Shion dying in a rainstorm and fed him. That’s about it.”

“No it isn’t,” Shion said. “He’s been living with me for… five months, now, almost.”

Rou looked utterly amazed. 

“Really?”

“Yes. He was going to pupate, so No. 6 tried to arrest him. But I rescued him first. Now we live in the West Block. Nezumi works in the theatre there.” There was something akin to pride in Shion’s voice. 

“And you know of Shion’s past, yet you still willingly reside in the same home as him?” Rou turned his gaze on Nezumi. 

Shion looked down at his feet. 

“No. Shion hasn’t told me anything.”

Rou looked angry. “Shion!”

“I’m sorry, Rou. I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about it.”

Though Rou still looked disapproving, he didn’t chide Shion further. 

“Don’t you think it’s time we rectified that situation? Nezumi deserves to know.”

Shion shook his head, continuing to look at his feet.

“I don’t think I could say it aloud. Even now.”

“Come now,” Rou said encouragingly. “We’ll tell the story together.”

Shion seemed to take strength from this proposition. He looked up at Nezumi.

“Me and the other people down here – we were used as test subjects by the scientists of No. 6.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote from Antoine de St. Exupery's _The Little Prince_. In case you couldn't guess.
> 
> Shion's story technically started in this chapter... right?  
> Well, I'm posting the next chapter barely minutes after this one, so if you're worried about the wait, don't be.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Alternate title for this chapter: I Was a Teenage Lab Rat~~
> 
>  
> 
> Also, surprise! It's Safu. Who would've guessed???? (Is she even in the character list? I wasn't actually planning on this.)  
> (I wasn't planning on Sasori either. But Ahiku suggested he should be in here, so I stuck him in.)
> 
> Of all the things in the world that I hate writing, I hate writing animals the most. =.=  
> I had no idea what to name the rats. Gog help me. "Silver" is so lame. I thought Shion might name them after things he'd seen or heard at home, but it seemed like such a cop-out to name the rat after another pastry.
> 
> Oh yeah, this bread thing is supposed to be analogous to the water-sharing scene in the novel. But I didn't do that here because Nezumi isn't collapsing. Why not? Hmm. Guess we'll find out.


	16. Who Did See Him Die?

_So Shion’s story began_. 

“I was born inside the walls of No. 6. When I was four years old, I tested into the Gifted Curriculum. For several years I was raised with the best and brightest children No. 6 could find. My mother and I lived in a placed called Chronos, where they put the elites. It was nice. But I don’t remember much of it. 

When I was eight, I was supposed to pick a track. I mean, I was supposed to pick what I would be studying for the rest of my time at school. I took some kind of test to determine which one would be best for me. So did Safu. We were in the same class. 

For whatever reason, the results of my test were different. Or maybe they weren’t. I’ll never know. That’s just what I always assumed. Because one day, there were some men in a car waiting for me after school. Security Bureau officials. One of them was Rashi, the man who just arrested us and brought us here. 

Back then he was there for the same reason. He said, “Shion, you’ve been honoured by the state. They want you to participate in an intensive testing program. It’s already been decided. You’re going to come with us.”

I asked where we were going, and he said, “Home away from home.”

Then I started getting scared, but I didn’t know what to say. I just told him I hoped my mother knew. He laughed at that. I remember.”

 _Shion took a breath. His voice was completely monotonous, as if he were reading a boring legal document instead of telling his life story_. 

“They took me here. To the Correctional Facility. They took me to the human testing wing. 

At first, they didn’t treat me too badly. I had a bed to sleep in and books to read. There were even some other kids there for me to play with, including Safu. Of course, I was upset to be away from my mother. But they kept promising I would see her soon, and I believed them. I was there for about a year, I'd say. What I didn’t realise was that they were secretly feeding me chemicals. You see, they had the same plan for all of us. They were trying to figure out how to make people more docile, more open to suggestion. They were actually trying to make me more obedient. 

The thing is, we don’t know as much about the brain and genetics as they told me in school. A lot of it is guesswork. Different chemicals have different effects on different people. Dosages are even more difficult to predict. So, their test subjects all responded differently to the treatment. That’s why they started taking elites. Not too many – just one or two from every age group. They hoped that a smarter brain, a better brain, might respond better to treatment. 

In my case…

I started getting angry. They couldn’t shut down my free will completely. I could feel that something was wrong with me, but I didn’t know what. I started lashing out. 

About a month after the first incident, I snapped. I tried running away for the first time. That’s when they decided that their experiments on me were a failure. So they made another decision. If they couldn’t drug me into submission, they would use “remedial therapy.””

 _Shion paused. There was a long, heavy silence_. 

“There were many different kinds of remedial therapy. Brainwashing. Hypnosis. Conditioning. Sometimes they tried all these things in combination. Sometimes they reversed the effects so they could try something else and see if it was equally effective on me. It was around that time that I started living in a cage. With no bed at all.”

 _Nezumi sensed that Shion was trying to convey the indignity and pain of the situation without having to use too many details. How frightening and lonely it must have been for a young boy to live in a cage, never knowing if he would see a soft bed again. Let alone see his mother, or anyone else who loved him. Let alone see the light of day. Or anything that wasn’t cruel and miserable at all_.

“There were other subjects in the cages beside me. These people were not all there for the same tests as me. It was harder for them. They were disposable. As I mentioned, there were two Forest People. The first one, the one who lived for over a year, he was my friend. Some of the other subjects were really violent and disturbed. Their minds were slowly being destroyed. But I vowed that would never be me.

I can’t say if I broke that vow. 

It was easier for Safu. The drugs worked on her. The rest of her testing was spent trying to reverse it. Not because they wanted the process to be reversible, you understand. They just wanted to know if it could be done. And they did it. Several times. I watched them destroy her mind, then bring it back, then hide it away again. Usually, she didn’t remember any of it. 

That’s why I say it was easier. 

Because I remember every damn minute of it.”

 _Now Shion was shaking all over again, as he had been in the van earlier. But this trembling was not in fear. It was in anger_.

“Once they decided I was too disturbed to do any testing on my mind, they started on my body. Because I was smart, they made me play lab assistant sometimes, on other people. So when they came for me, I’d always wake up knowing exactly what had been done. What were they testing for this time? Now they were trying to create a super-race. What does that mean? A race of perfect humans. So that the holy city No. 6 could be populated with angels. Angels who were wise, strong, beautiful, and totally docile. Like ornamental sheep. Like cosseted lapdogs on diamond-encrusted leashes. Like –”

 _Shion’s voice broke._  
 _“You’re doing well, Shion,” Rou said_.  
 _“Right. I’m sorry.”_  
 _“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Please continue.”_  
 _Even though his teeth were practically chattering because he was shaking so hard, Shion did continue_.

“They constantly took my blood, or pieces of my skin, so they could get my DNA. Then they’d make me do all kinds of tests, to see if I was better in some way than another subject. Whichever of us did better would get their DNA taken again. Then they’d spend a few months doing more trials and trying to isolate the gene responsible for whatever it is they wanted from the DNA they had taken. Once they thought they had it, they’d start another trail for something else. 

Once they made me run through mazes for three months. God, that was awful.

Well, all this time, I was getting wilder and wilder. I wasn’t angry, per se. Just frantic and panicky. I don’t know if it was because of the mental testing. But they couldn’t control me anymore. They stopped letting me be lab assistant. They started putting handcuffs on me all the time. I tried to run away again, two more times. I knew it was futile. I just couldn’t help myself. 

When I tried to run away for the fourth time – that’s when they gave me these.”

_Shion held up his wrist to show the bright red scar encircling it. With his other hand, he gestured at the scar around his neck. The two marks on his ankles remained hidden under the hems of his pants._

“Three months, solitary confinement. Their testing told them that being alone and immobile in a dark room is one of the easiest ways to make a person go mad.”

 _Shion’s voice took on a deep, dark, bitter tone. This was a bad sign. It meant that Shion was losing control of himself_.

“I spent every minute of those three months wishing damnation upon the heads of every member of the government of No. 6. But in a way, I suppose that solitary confinement was a blessing. It gave me time to plan out a real escape. One that might actually work.

By that time, they had already sent Safu down here. This place, this cave. It’s where they send subjects that they can’t use anymore, but who they don’t feel the need to kill. Some of these people were supposed to die in the Pit, but escaped just like we did. But Safu was expressly put down here. Her genes were too good for them to kill her, but they didn’t bother with the physical tests for whatever reason. Because of that, I knew that this place existed. So as soon as I got out of solitary, I got myself thrown in the Pit.

The first time I saw it, they had just delivered a fresh batch of living people from the Hunt…”

 _Nezumi felt sick. Climbing that pile of the dead had been bad enough without some of them being… alive_.

“Well, it’s a miracle I made it to the caverns. That’s when I met Rou. And Sasori. And reunited with Safu. 

Rou – he helped me. I was a mess, Nezumi. I was totally broken. You have no idea. But I told him, I said, _If I stay here any more, I will kill myself_.”

 _The viciousness in Shion’s voice did not seem like it was only remembered_.

“And he said, “In that case, you have to leave.”

And from that day on, we planned. But he didn’t want me to leave right away. He thought I wouldn’t survive in the outside world. And he was right. I probably wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t met you.”

 _Shion took a deep breath, and his voice began to return to its normal flat tones_.

“After I met you, I went to the West Block. I had to work hard to pretend to be normal. To pretend I didn’t start to panic when I saw someone in a white coat. To pretend the town wasn’t overwhelming and didn’t make me want to hide or die. I forced myself to adapt and… I did it. 

But I’m not normal, Nezumi. I’m broken. You need to understand that. I’m not safe. I’m not whole. I could never hurt you. But I might hurt myself.

Do you understand?”

_“Yes.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who did see him die?
> 
> I know people have been waiting for this... so I really really hope it's satisfactory ^^;;;;;;;  
> I'm not gonna lie, it was really hard to write ;A;  
> Please feel free to leave me feedback!!!
> 
> By the way. I hope this story doesn't seem like overkill to you. I can't decide if it is or not. Frankly, I think that most of the horror in No. 6 is hidden - Nezumi's childhood is never elaborated on this explicitly. We know there was a genocide and then he was abused emotionally by his grandmother (who he doubtless formed a traumatic bond too) who was then killed in front of him. We know nothing of his time in the West Block, but there are so many hints that bad things happened to him. Having to sell his body, maybe even. If you believe me on that count, then you can see why I piled so much shit on poor Shion, can't you?   
> There's another factor, which is that the horrors of Nezumi's childhood were more spread out over a period of time - from the day his village burned down, to some point in the West Block when he started winning fights instead of losing them. I would estimate that time period was about 7 years long. (Age 7 - 15, say.) For fateswap Shion, though, all of this was condensed into the 4 years (ages 8ish - 13 exactly) in the Correctional Facility, plus one year of transition in the West Block. And you have to remember that for the first of those years, he was just lonely. The real shit didn't begin 'till they had enough of trying to pump him full of drugs...  
> I was also trying to put something of Safu's canon experiences into here. And I don't know if you've read the novel, but her thoughts from the Correctional Facility basically read like rape scenes. So yeah, I figured something really bad went down in the Correctional Facility, and this is the culmination of my reasoning.   
> Anyway, that's just my logic behind this little tale. Like I said, this was one of the hardest chapters for me to write.


	17. Leave Every Hope

Life is hard and cruel when tyrants rule the world. Nezumi knew that well. He thought of himself as accustomed to hearing tales of misery and oppression. They were daily occurrences, after all. The last time he had cried over an injustice was when he was nine years old.

Perhaps it was the immense mental strain he had been through in the past few hours. Perhaps it was because what he had just heard was the greatest concentration of misery and oppression he had ever heard of. Perhaps it was because he had grown to care for Shion immensely, whether he would admit it or not. But at the conclusion of Shion’s story, he found himself with tears in his eyes. Listening to Shion’s tale should have made him angrier. But there was no space left in his heart for more anger. He could only find room for bitterness.

Nezumi tried to pull himself together and think logically. Did the information he had just learned about Shion make him more dangerous? 

Why… no, actually. It made him less dangerous, because it provided an explanation for his bizarre behaviour. True, the damage inflicted on Shion by his terrible experiences was probably greater than Nezumi could imagine. But there was nothing in his past to suggest that he would turn on Nezumi. 

Nezumi scowled hard, trying to push back the stinging in his eyes. Shion was gazing off into space, looking totally… lost. 

_Reach out to him_ , Nezumi found himself thinking. _Don’t let him bear the weight of the past alone_.

_But isn’t it our job to carry our own past? Why should I reach out to him, when I have my own heavy past to carry?_

_“It’s the right thing to do_ ,” said Nezumi’s mother’s voice in his mind. 

_“That means nothing. Look after yourself before all others. Shion’s been bearing this burden since before you knew him. There’s no reason to take it on yourself now_ ,” his grandmother’s voice replied. 

But what did Nezumi himself want to think?

Nezumi shook his head hard, and his eyes dried. Then he reached out his hand and put it on Shion’s arm. 

Shion looked Nezumi in the eyes. 

There it was! For the briefest of seconds, Nezumi saw the hidden emotion that he’d been catching glimpses of ever since he first met Shion. The one that had been peeking out of those deep, beautiful, lavender eyes many times that day. The feeling Nezumi had been trying to put his finger on, but never could quite see. But there it was. And he thought - it might just be loss. 

Shion gave an agonized little cry and shoved his face into Nezumi’s chest. 

“Hush now, my brave child,” Nezumi said softly, putting his arms around Shion. He had the absurd urge to start singing, as if he were standing on a stage and not in a dank cave full of lost shadows.

Rou was watching the two of them intently. 

“You are kind to him,” he observed. 

To his horror, Nezumi found himself flushing ever so slightly, as if he’d been caught in some kind of trespass. 

“No I’m not.”

Rou smiled in gentle amusement. 

“You’re not rejecting him.”

“No.”

“That is a kindness indeed.”

 _Whatever, old man_.

“Thanks.”

“Will you stay with him, after you leave here?”

Nezumi shrugged. The correct answer was “No,” because Nezumi planned to go back to live with his family. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life stuck in the West Block. It had only ever been a temporary shelter for him. But that was none of this old man’s goddamn business. It was between Nezumi and Shion only.

And at that moment, Nezumi didn’t want to discuss this particular part of the future. Especially not with Shion cradled in his arms. 

Nezumi realised he had involuntarily tightened his hold on Shion, and let him go. Shion shuddered, smoothed out the front of his coat, and was still. Nezumi was amazed, as usual, at Shion’s recovery time. While he was still reeling, Shion was already locked up tight behind his blank mask. 

“Are you alright?” Rou asked Shion.

“Yes.”

“Nezumi says he won’t reject you.”

“I know.”

Rou watched them both intently for a moment. His whole attitude irritated Nezumi. Rou acted like he knew so much about both of them – huh. He didn’t know anything about Nezumi. 

“Now, I hear you have something to tell me?”

Shion nodded. 

“I know what’s happening to the Forest People.”

Rou sat forward in surprise. 

“What?”

“Something seems to have set off a chain reaction of transformations. More and more of them have been pupating lately. The number is increasing exponentially. And, there are patterns to it. What is grown seems to be consistent across families. Sometimes, nothing is grown at all, though they display the symptoms.

“It’s almost like – the spreading of a disease. The question is, what started it and from whom was the point of origin? Yet it clearly has a genetic component, as I said. It only affects Forest People. So that tells me that it’s not the disease – if you can call it that – which is spreading. It’s the trigger for a genetic change in the subjects.”

“So what do you think is causing it?”

“I don’t know. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was No. 6. This facility is the only place I know of that could be the source of any strange genetic experiments. But they’re just as mystified by this phenomenon as we are. I wonder… if I knew more about the culture of the Forest People, perhaps I would know. Nezumi, do you have any ideas?”

Nezumi was startled to have the conversation suddenly directed at him. 

“I have no idea. Nobody talked about this before I left. Everyone who pupated got arrested. That’s all I know.”

“But you don’t know of any kind of – plant or bacteria or even insect that is known to affect your people specifically?”

Nezumi sighed in irritation. Much as he wanted to understand what was happening to his people and why, this conversation wouldn’t help rescue Izanami. Couldn’t they deal with this later? Had Shion forgotten the threat of the Hunt hanging over their heads?

“Now, young man,” Rou admonished him. “This is no small matter. It may have more far-reaching consequences than you realise.”

 _That’s nice. Let us out of here_.

“I can’t think of anything,” Nezumi said flatly. 

“Well, I suppose –” Shion began. Safu interrupted. 

“Wait. You said insect?”

“Yes, why?” Shion replied. 

“There’s something strange on the top floor of this building.”

“Is there?”

“Yes. A giant wasp.”

“A giant wasp? How big?” Shion made a motion with his hands to show an object about the size of a sheet of paper. 

“No. As big as me, if not bigger.”

Nezumi stared dumbly at Safu. 

“That’s impossible,” he said, biting back a sarcastic remark.

“No, it isn’t.”

“I never saw it,” Shion broke in.

“That’s because they put it there while you were in solitary.”

“Oh. Well, are you sure it’s a real wasp? And is it even alive?”

“Yes, and yes. But it’s in some kind of tube. I think it might even be cryogenic. I – I can’t describe it properly, I’m sorry. My memories aren’t very good.” Safu seemed distressed by this fact. Nezumi recalled what Shion had said about Safu’s memory being faulty. So it seemed that they wouldn’t be able to get any decent information out of her.

“Look, this giant wasp is probably not related to anything,” Nezumi said. “But while we’re on the subject, why don’t you tell us what else you remember being on the top floor?”

That was where they were going to fetch Izanami from, after all. 

Safu looked startled. 

“I…” she frowned in concentration, bunching her fingers in the hem of her knitted sweater. 

“There was… a big machine of some kind… a computer. Yes, a big computer. I think it was for… controlling testing? No, that’s not right. It was for… oh, it was very important… I know. They were using it to run the entire facility. And probably more things. I don’t know.”

Safu paused, squeezing her eyes shut. She continued scrunching and releasing her sweater. Just when Nezumi was about to speak again and put her out of her misery, she let out a little exclamation. 

“Ah!”

“Mm?”

“Oh no…”

“What is it?”

“They have something dangerous up there.”

“Something dangerous?” Nezumi prompted impatiently. 

Safu exchanged a glance with Shion. 

“The results of the obedience testing.”

Shion’s emotional quota for the day must have been full, because he didn’t react to that at all. 

“Oh.”

“Don’t you understand, Shion? All their trials are up there. _All_ of them.”

“Oh no…”

“What is the danger in that?” Rou asked.

Shion responded. “They’re keeping the results of the chemical obedience training up there. Some of their trails had worse results than others. The R1 batch was relatively harmless. The B3 batch made people nearly braindead. The T3 batch made people obedient, at the temporary cost of their motor skills. The R5 batch made everyone who was exposed to it extremely aggressive. And so on.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, as long as these chemicals aren’t released into the water supply. Were they secure, Safu?”

Safu shook her head. “I can’t remember.”

“That’s alright. I’m sure they’re perfectly safe,” Shion said. “The Correctional Facility’s one asset is its security system.”

“You are quite correct, Shion,” Rou said, nodding approvingly. “What worries me is why the chemicals were kept instead of being disposed of.”

Now they were really off topic, and Nezumi was even less pleased. He coughed and shifted. 

“It seems Nezumi is eager to depart,” Rou said. Nobody but Nezumi noticed, but Sasori at that moment made a face which said, "Good, let him go." Nezumi thought that under different circumstances, he might like to punch Sasori. Or maybe strangle him. One of those two things.

“Sorry,” said Shion.

Rou laughed. “I’m glad you came to visit us, Shion. I’m sorry we couldn’t do more for you.”

“Thank you for helping us.”

“Of course. You two… ever since I first met you, Shion, I’ve known there was something special about you. In spite of the crushing burdens you carry, your spirit is still pure. Nezumi, I sense, is the same. If you two work together, no evil in this world can stand before you. You must hold fast to each other. More trials are yet to come. You must face them together. This is the best advice that I can give you. It is the only advice that could help you survive.”

To Nezumi’s mind, the idea of depending on someone else for survival was folly. But hadn’t he been the one who, earlier, had said that they would live or die together? This was a joint venture, and there was no other way to frame it. So he would just have to accept the old man’s advice. 

"You do not know of the weight that is upon you. I believe that you coming here today is preordained. The course of the destiny of this city is shifting, and you two may be the catalysts. You must not fail to reach the top floor of the Correctional Facility."

Shion nodded. "We won't. I can't fail while Nezumi is by my side."

_Stop it. Don't put that much faith in me..._

"My blessing goes with you," Rou said.

Nezumi and Shion murmured their thanks, Nezumi's somewhat begrudingly. Rou did not seem to notice. 

Rou looked around the cavern. 

“Safu… you may escort Shion and Nezumi to the door,” he said. Safu smiled and stepped eagerly towards them. Nezumi, Safu, and Shion waited respectfully for Rou to be carried away on his palanquin. Sasori lingered in his wake, his eyes shooting daggers at the three of them. Nezumi stared him down until he, too, retreated to the edges of the cave. Then Safu led them through the cavern, to another slim, rocky passageway on the other side. As the three of them passed the people lining the edges of the cave, Nezumi heard a rumble of whispers, many of them saying his name.

The minute they were out of earshot of the main cave, Nezumi said, “So, who the fuck was that guy? And how come he doesn’t have any legs?”

“I told you, he’s my godfather,” Shion said. “He used to be friends with my mother.”

“He knew your _mother_? How did he end up here?”

“He was also one of the scientists who founded… well, the Correctional Facility. But back then, it wasn’t the horrible place it is now. When it started becoming evil, he didn’t notice. By the time he did, it was too late. He tried to protest, but they wouldn’t hear it. Then he tried to leave, and they locked him up, because they needed his brain. The reason he doesn’t have any legs is because one time they left him in chains too long, and gangrene set in.”

Well. That answered that. 

“He’s a very good man,” Safu said softly. “I don’t know how, but he seems to understand everyone here perfectly. He knows our hearts as if they were his own. But he’s so kind and strong, not like us test subjects. He helps us live in harmony, so that one day we might be able to go back outside.”

“Safu had a grandmother, before she came here,” Shion said.

“She made my sweater.”

Nezumi found that he wasn’t jealous of Safu anymore. In fact, he was beginning to feel sympathy for her. 

_What is it about Shion and his stupid troupe of friends that makes me want to actually care about them? Gran would be so disappointed_.

Next you would have him believe he was supposed to start caring about Inukashi. 

“It’s… nice.”

“Thank you.” Safu sighed. 

“It’s been very good to see you, Safu,” Shion said. The light in the cave was shifting, slightly; they were entering another area of LED lighting. Nezumi could see that in the distance, the cave was blocked off. Hopefully with an exit. 

“You too,” Safu said. “I hope that one day we meet again.”

“Under better circumstances.”

“Yes.” Safu smiled. “When both of us are free.”

The glance they exchanged (well, the glance that Safu gave, which Shion stared blankly back at) made Nezumi think that she was referencing some ancient promise or pact. 

Shion’s response confirmed his thought. 

“I believe it.”

They were now close enough to the end of the tunnel for Nezumi to see that they were indeed approaching a door. Safu noticed that he was looking at it, and said, “That door hasn’t been opened in over a decade.”

“I sure hope you’ve figured out how to get it open by now,” Nezumi said. 

“Of course.”

They came to a stop. 

“Well… good luck, you two,” Safu said.

“Good-bye,” Shion replied. 

“Bye,” said Nezumi. He and Shion stood and watched her walk away, until she had been completely swallowed up by the darkness at the far end of the tunnel. 

Then they turned towards the door. The final barrier between them and the Correctional Facility. They had made it at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did I think it was a good idea to stay up until 1 in the morning writing this? beats me!
> 
> Also, can anyone tell that I find Rou really pretentious? Yeah...


	18. The Arms of Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: I did not want to write this chapter. I wanted nothing more than to skip to the chapter after, where all the interesting things happen. Therefore, it probably sucks. Sorry about that. I'll go back and fix it later. If I ever feel like caring about it, ever. (Hint: not likely to happen.)

The light on the other side of the door was blinding. The light of freedom? Hah. Nezumi wished. No, it was just the hypnotizing glamour the holy city liked to cloak itself in. A lie, on top of thousands of other lies. So bright and entrancing that one could almost forget about the mound of corpses it was quite literally built on.

Nezumi would never forget. And never, ever forgive.

The door closed behind them.

“No going back,” Shion warned him. As his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the hallway, Nezumi realised how much they stuck out against the bright white tiled floor and painted walls. Both of them were covered in dirt and blood. He looked around anxiously, hoping that nobody would decide it was a good time to come down this corridor. 

“We’re going to the cloakroom,” Shion informed him. He, too must have felt out of place. “If we can get some disguises, we’ll be able to walk around much more freely. Fifty paces to the right. We're safe until there. There are no sensors. Beyond that, we've got stairs."

"And there?"

"Laser beams: one on the second step, running 45 degrees; one on the stairwell, 15 centimetres above the floor, running parallel; one on the eleventh step running 60 degrees. As long as we don't touch those, the surveillance won't go off."

"Hm. Pretty lax."

"Only up to here." This was the basement floor of the Correctional Facility. There was no contact to outside areas, so naturally, there were no windows or doors. It felt like being in a big, white box. Nezumi didn’t like it, but he could stand it. 

Every time they came to an intersection in the hallway, Nezumi tensed. From some side hallways, snippets of conversation floated to his ears. 

"Why does it smell so horrible? I can't stand it." 

"I feel faint. What in heavens is this smell?"

"It's impossible to get any work done in this. I feel like my nose is going to fall off.”

"Unbearable, isn't it?”

“What the hell is going on?” Nezumi asked Shion. He didn’t smell a thing. Then again, their clothes probably smelled so bad that his nose was numb. 

“Inukashi. I asked him to provide a diversion for us. He must have gotten his friend the janitor to break the cleaning robots or something.”

“Why is Inukashi helping us?” Nezumi wondered. 

“Because we’re friends,” Shion said simply. 

That wasn’t the word Nezumi would have used, but alright.

They had come to the stairwell Shion had mentioned, which they quickly ascended. Shion pointed out where the laser beams were, and they easily avoided them. Now they were on the first floor, which was more heavily guarded than the basement. 

“Fifteen paces right,” Shion said quietly. He and Nezumi tiptoed the length of those fifteen paces until they came to a door. From his pocket Shion produced what looked like an identification badge, which he held up to a sensor beside the door. It slid silently open. 

“Where’d you get that?”

“Stole it ages ago.”

They slipped into the cloakroom. 

There were two men inside, sitting on a bench and chatting. When they saw Nezumi and Shion, the stood up. But before they could even speak, Shion had crossed the room and punched the first one in the stomach. He crumpled to the ground. Shion brought his hand down on the neck of the other one, and he, too, fell silently. 

“Sorry,” Shion murmured to the two bodies on the floor. Then he pulled a white coat from a rack to the side of the room and threw it at Nezumi. 

“Put this on. You’ll have to hide your scarf. Don’t take it off, though.”

“Got it.”

Nezumi set about arranging his scarf underneath the pristine white labcoat. Shion shrugged on a second coat. 

As he smoothed the scarf down to his satisfaction, Nezumi wondered at how prepared Shion was, and how voluminous his pockets were. Shion was truly impressive. And in more ways than this. Now that Nezumi had seen part of the hell that Shion had had to go through as a child – and heard the story of the rest of it – he could barely comprehend how strong Shion was, to have survived all that. Before, he had thought of Shion as a weak person, subject to fits of emotion at the drop of a hat. But in reality, Shion was constantly warring with the traumas of his past. It was no wonder that he was so easily unsettled. And Nezumi admired him, for being able to stand beside him as an equal. And yes, they were equals. At least, Nezumi hoped Shion would consider him to be an equal. 

There was a small sink with a mirror at the back of the room. Nezumi used these to quickly scrub off his face and hands, then tie back his hair properly. Shion did the same. 

“How do I look?” Nezumi asked, twirling around dramatically. 

“Excellent,” said Shion. Clipping the nametag he had produced earlier to the front of his coat, he said, “Take a nametag from one of those two.”

Nezumi prised the nametag from the coat of the smaller of the two men, then attached it to his own coat. 

“Good,” said Shion. “Let’s go.”

When they exited the cloak room, a smell hit them. Nezumi realised that either washing his face had done him some good, or the smell had simply grown stronger than it had been when they went in. The smell was not pleasant, but it wasn’t nauseatingly bad, at least not for him. He detected the odour of rotting garbage, but nothing else. It wasn’t half as bad as stormy brew of smells which permeated the West Block. 

“They should be evacuating about now,” Shion said. 

“Evacuating? Whatever for?”

“In No. 6, all odours are kept under control. The people who work here have probably never smelled anything this bad in their entire lives. So, naturally, they can’t function.”

“Hah.” Nezumi clicked his tongue. _Pathetic_. 

Now they began to encounter many other people, all of them seemingly in a state of panic. They clutched handkerchiefs to their noses and mouths. Some of them were deathly pale, with a sheen of sweat, while others were close to tears. 

"Hey, what's going on? What's this smell?"

"The whole building is full of it."

"I feel faint. I think I'm going to throw up."

Nezumi almost felt like laughing. What a sorry sight. These scientists were no more a threat to him than a horde of gnats would be. They weren’t even paying attention to him or Shion, allowing them to stride fearlessly down the corridor as if they belonged there.

Well, Shion looked as ill at ease as he always did, but if anyone noticed that, they would just attribute it to the smell. Hah!

Then Nezumi realised he should probably be pretending that he, too, was affected by the smell. To better blend in, of course. So he pressed his arm over his nose and mouth and squinted his eyes as if he were walking through a snowstorm. Good enough. If need be, he could summon his acting skills and lapse into a fit of coughing or whatnot. But at the moment, it wasn’t even worth it to waste those skills on these pitiful people. 

An announcement came over the intercom. 

"Commencing odour removal. Commencing air filtering. Operational level 8.5. The air quality of the building will return to normal in approximately two minutes, sixteen seconds." 

Shion quickened his pace slightly. Two minutes? Would that be enough time? Nezumi didn’t even know where they were going. 

A chubby man beside Shion, who was breathing heavily into his handkerchief, said, “Hey, you there.”

Shion stopped walking and cocked his head. 

_Uh-oh_ … Nezumi thought.

“Mmm?” Shion said. Nezumi, surmising that he would have trouble talking, came to a stop beside him. 

“Where are you two going?”

“The third floor,” Nezumi said coolly. Shion nodded.

“The stench is horrible up there," the man said. "You'd be better off going down. I'd suggest you avoid the area entirely for a while. I can't imagine you could get any work done in that."

“Oh, we know. But we can’t afford to leave right now.”

“You can’t?”

“No, we have to put some important papers away before we can leave the building. It’s part of our safety protocol, you know. We were just on a coffee break when all this started…”

He hoped this excuse would sound viable to the fat man. 

The man coughed. “Are you sure? You really should just leave.”

“We’ll be fine, but thank you,” Nezumi said, wishing he could just punch the man’s lights out to prevent any further questioning. 

A woman appeared at the fat man’s elbow. 

“What are you doing, Yamada-san? We have to get out of here.”

“These kids are going the wrong way,” the man blustered.

“Hey,” Nezumi said indignantly. “We’re just trying to follow the security protocol. Do you want us to lose our jobs?”

“Now, now,” the woman said. “You two do whatever it is you have to do. We’ll be evacuating like everyone else.”

She shot them an irritated look, but Nezumi couldn’t care less. As the couple took off down the hallway, he breathed an internal sigh of relief.

“Good excuse,” Shion said.

“Thanks.”

From there on out, they met a lot fewer people. With their remaining minute of time, they travelled to a room ladled “Management Systems.” This, Shion flashed his badge at, and soon they were inside. 

With ten seconds to spare. 

The air was conspicuously cleaner, and Nezumi wondered how long it would be until whoever belonged in this office returned to it and found them there. 

“Let’s shake things up a bit,” Shion said, turning his attention to the control panel in front of him. It seemed that this room was used to control the climate of the facility, and some of the security features also. With a blissful calmness about him, Shion began turning knobs and flicking switches, until he had altered nearly every setting in the booth. In a matter of seconds, the smell had returned. 

Shion typed some text into one of the interactive panels, then hit a switch. Immediately, his message was broadcasted aloud in a robotic female voice to the entire facility. 

“Attention, all. The department of Hygiene Management wishes to inform you that there has been a malfunction of the odour-filtering services. In addition, an unknown chemical compound is present in the building. We are currently working to locate the source of this compound. Please rest assured that the building should be cleaned in less than ten minutes. We will update you with any further developments.”

Things were going far better than Nezumi had expected. If they continued like this, he and Shion might just make it out alive. 

“I’ve turned off the riot barriers, de-activated all but the bare-minimum of the security, and set the odour control to emit more disgusting scents for the next ten minutes,” Shion said. “We can make it to the top floor in five. You ready?”

“Yes.”

They exited the Management Systems room. The corridor outside was totally deserted. Nevertheless, Shion opted not to take the normal stairs, but led Nezumi to a set of maintenance stairs, which were so thin they were nearly a ladder set into the wall. Up and up and up they climbed, until Nezumi was certain they must have climbed nearly up to the roof already. 

As they finally emerged from the stairwell, another announcement came over the intercom. 

“Attention, all. We have discovered a security breach in the lower level. We are in communication with the department of Hygiene Management, and they suspect this security breach may be the source of the unknown chemical. We are investigating at this very moment. Stand-by.”

Shion’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. 

“I didn’t program it to say that,” he said. 

“That means…”

“They must have found that we opened that door out of Point X…”

“Point X?”

“The cave system we were in.”

“So what will they do about it?”

“Normally, they’d put the facility on lockdown. Sadly, that is now impossible.”

Shion didn’t sound sad about it at all. 

“Now we have to take an elevator to the next floor, then cross one room, take another elevator, and we’ll be on the top floor.”

Good. Nezumi was sick of stairs. 

They crossed through a room of deserted offices, then another one. There were a few people still grimly seated at their desks typing, but none of them looked up as Nezumi and Shion passed. 

There was a woman waiting for the elevator when they arrived there. 

“Are you going up?” Shion asked politely. 

The woman looked startled. “Why – no. I’m going down. I can’t stand this awful smell.”

“It is pretty bad, isn’t it?” Nezumi said. “Unfortunately, we have business upstairs.”

“Upstairs? But – isn’t that a restricted area?”

“Oh, we don’t work there. We were asked to go investigate something there. We’re from Hygiene Management, you see. We’ve been given temporary clearance.”

“Oh, I see,” the woman said. Turning to Shion, she said, “You know, your hair is very pretty.”

Nezumi rolled his eyes internally.

“Oh – uh –”

“He dyes it,” Nezumi said. Just then, the elevator arrived. 

“You can use it first,” the woman said courteously. “I really hope you can figure out what’s gone wrong.”

“Thank you,” Nezumi said, nodding at her. He towed Shion into the elevator. 

When the doors closed, Shion shook his head silently. 

Nezumi’s curiosity was piqued. 

“Shion… why _is_ your hair white?”

Shion shrugged. “When I went into solitary, it was black. When I came out, it was white.”

 _Oh_. 

“I don’t know why that woman liked it. I think it’s quite ugly.”

“Not at all. It’s fascinating.”

“You think so?”

Nezumi raised his hand to touch Shion’s hair, but Shion took a step back. “Not now.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“It really is lovely, though. It practically glows.”

“Heh,” said Shion. “Thanks.”

The elevator doors opened. They were in the middle of a circular room, which had several doors leading away from it, including three more elevators, evenly spaced throughout the room. Shion and Nezumi left the elevator and headed for the one directly opposite from them. 

“This is the level they keep the really high security prisoners on,” Shion said. “The room is circular so as to be confusing. They can even rotate the floor if they need to. If you went down any of those hallways, it would feel like you were in a box. It’s incredibly confusing. If you’re in one of the cells down there, there’s no way you’ll get out unless there’s a total security collapse.”

He seemed about to add something when a man and several guards emerged from one of those hallways. Shion froze. 

It was Rashi. 

Rashi seemed just as shocked to see them as they were to see him. Then he gestured towards them, and all the guards raised their guns. 

“ _You_. I might have known that you were the ones behind this.”

Shion subtly dipped one hand into his pocket. 

“Freeze!” Rashi ordered. “Put your hands in the air. You won’t get away with this, VC-55142.”

“You’re not going to stop me,” Shion said flatly. Then he threw something from his pocket at Rashi and the three guards. They opened fire, but Nezumi and Shion ducked just in time. 

The thing Shion had thrown was a smoke bomb. It couldn’t fill the entire room, but it was enough to block Rashi’s view and confuse his guards, who were still firing indiscriminately. 

“Stop it, you fools!” Rashi ordered. Silently, Shion and Nezumi began crawling across to the floor to their destination. 

Shion reached up and pressed the button for the elevator.

It took ten precious seconds for the doors to open. 

Shion shoved Nezumi into the elevator, then flipped open a panel on the wall next to the elevator. He pressed three buttons, then jumped into the elevator with Nezumi. As the doors closed, Nezumi saw the floor of the room they had just left begin to spin around and around. 

“He won’t find us,” Shion said. “I set the speed to maximum. If he can find his way out of there, he’ll probably throw up from the motion sickness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone's wondering, yes, Rashi was not supposed to be a threat in this version of the story. There's someone much worse for Nezumi and Shion to deal with later...
> 
> Also, I know. I totally abbreviated the layout of the Correctional Facility in this chapter. But you know what? Asano Atsuko had 3 chapters to write about it. And I only gave myself one (because I couldn't be arsed to care that much). So, take it or leave it. ~~Sorry not sorry~~


	19. A Treacherous Joy

The elevator pinged as it stopped at the top floor of the Correctional Facility. Shion gestured at Nezumi to get up against the wall, and both of them flattened themselves against the sides of the elevator until Shion had determined it was safe to exit.

They found themselves at the beginning of a long, dark, glossy black hallway. The pale fluorescent lights pooled on the slick floor, making a shining road. At the far end of the hallway were three evenly-spaced doors. It was deserted. The elevator door closed soundlessly behind Shion. 

“Which door?” Nezumi asked. “Left, right, or centre?”

“I don’t know. I memorized the floorplan, but that doesn’t tell me the contents of the building. It used to be that the rightmost door led to the computer and the room where they keep pupated Forest People. But I could be wrong.”

“I suppose that behind the other two are Safu’s giant bee and toxic chemicals,” Nezumi said. 

“Hmm…”

“What is it?” Nezumi was getting antsy. He didn’t like being out in the open like this, trying to decide which door to go into. He wanted to be on the move. Even though the building was being evacuated, who knew how long it would take them to get it cleaned out and running properly again?

Shion walked over to the leftmost door and opened it. 

“No,” he said. “That one’s the chemical test records.”

Then he looked inside the centre door and gasped. 

“What _is_ it?”

“Safu was right. The giant wasp – it’s real.”

“Satisfying your curiosity, were you? At a time like this? Pull yourself together, Shion,” Nezumi said impatiently. 

“But what if this is the reason why the Forest People are pupating? Maybe it’s important to you.”

“If it was important, I would know about it…” Nezumi began. Then he stopped. “Oh.”

Now it was Shion’s turn to ask, “What is it?”

“When I was younger, my parents used to tell me stories about the great wasp-goddess Elyurias. But I thought they were just stories.”

“So she is important,” Shion said. “Nezumi, I really think we should free her.”

Nezumi hesitated for a moment. What sort of goddess was Elyurias? He didn’t remember. 

Suddenly he felt a chill go down his spine. 

_Born in blood, they’re born in blood… Elyurias is arming her children_.

That’s right. The wasp goddess Elyurias was _vengeful_. 

… _Perfect_. 

“I think you’re right,” he said. 

To have the power of a goddess on his side against No. 6? That was an idea he could appreciate. 

So he and Shion went through the centre door. Nezumi gasped.

The room was orderly, inorganic, and sterile. Not a single stain marred the smooth floor. The chamber was odourless and almost soundless. Only Nezumi and Shion’s footsteps made tiny muted taps as they walked in. The door closing behind them made no noise at all, not even a _click_. 

Evenly spaced around the room were rows and rows of giant glass tubes. Some of them, a small child could have put their arms around. Others would have required the reach of a full adult to encircle. They were filled with clear liquid, which every so often glowed a soft bluish-white. 

Floating in these tubes were all kinds of creatures, most of which Nezumi recognized from the forest. He could not tell if they were alive or dead. They were eerie, unreal, like plastic toys. Their fur swayed gently in invisible currents, like the waving of seaweed growing on the bones of dead fish at the bottom of the ocean. Their lifeless eyes stared right through him, as if he did not matter at all. 

This room was the complete opposite of the Pit. There was no blood, no smell of decay, no chaos. But it was an equally gruesome sight. It was a museum of death. An altar of worship to cold, clean, clinical cruelty. This alone would have been adequately horrifying. 

But the centrepiece of the room was an absolutely enormous tube, and inside was the giant wasp of which Safu had spoken. The thing was taller than Nezumi. It seemed to be asleep and inert, but somehow it felt as if it were watching over the strange new intruders. As if it might spring to life at any moment. The whole room thrummed with energy, possibility, and hidden life. 

But as soon as Nezumi looked away from it and back at the bizarre, floating, unreal creatures, the contrast in their blank gazes was incredibly jarring. Nezumi was on edge, expecting one of them to turn into a monster and leap out of its confinement at any moment. If anything had stirred in that room and disturbed the unnatural stillness, even something as small as a fly, he would have completely lost control of himself. As it was, his legs were shaking with exhaustion and tension. He had to give himself a rest or he would collapse. 

He turned back to the wasp and let her fill his whole vision. A soothing blankness descended over his mind. It was as if his thoughts were connecting to another entity, a vast, unknown space, a peaceful oblivion. But there was a fuzzy grey veil between himself and this other, so there was no fear of falling into it.

A name sprang to Nezumi’s lips. “Elyurias.” He knew it was impossible, but he could have sworn that the wasp’s eyes flashed as he spoke. 

“I don’t know how we’ll get her out,” Shion said. It was fortunate that his voice was both even and familiar. It did not disturb Nezumi’s troubled mind any further. “I guess we could just smash the tube. Of course, it would be preferable to oxygenate it slowly, so that the shock of being returned to a natural environment doesn’t kill her. But she is said to be a goddess, so perhaps she can handle it. We don’t have time to try anything else.”

 _Besides, it already feels like she’s awake_.

Nezumi shivered. 

Meanwhile, Shion was investigating one of the glass tubes. Strangely enough, this room did not seem to have the same effect on him as it did Nezumi. Given the cleanliness and neatness of Shion’s home, Nezumi surmised that sterile spaces were comforting to him, no doubt due to repeated exposure. 

“We need something heavy and blunt. Think you can go next door and find something?”

Nezumi did not want to look away from Elyurias and face the staring, blank eyes in the other tubes again. But he knew he would have to break his gaze, because he could not stand here forever.

“Next door on the left?” 

“Yeah, no one’s in there. It’s just a bunch of test tubes. There was a desk lamp, though. It should have a good, solid base. If there’s a marker in there, bring that too. I’ll try to devise a plan to get this thing open.”

As Nezumi left the room, he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest and he could breathe again. He went back to the leftmost door of the three, and opened it with apprehension. Inside, there were rows and rows and rows of small vials lining the walls, each labelled with a number and a letter. Nezumi wondered which one Shion had been given. There was also a desk at the far end of the room. It held a computer, a lamp, and not much else. How strangely mundane it all was, after everything else he had seen. Nezumi didn’t know if his brain could keep up with all these drastic changes of scenery. He had to get in and out of this room as quickly as possible.

As he was crossing the room to get the lamp, he had a thought. 

What had Rou said about these chemicals?

 _Just as long as they don’t get into the water supply_ …

What if they did? Would everyone in No. 6 die? 

…Which one had Shion said made everyone brain-dead? B3, was it?

Nezumi glanced at the shelf beside him and saw that he was walking past the G section. A little further along were the Bs. And there was B3. 

This could be Nezumi’s chance to destroy No. 6. He scooped up the vial and put it up his sleeve, then grabbed the lamp. After scanning the desk for a writing utensil, and finding a black felt-tip marker, he snatched it up and hurried back next door. 

“Thanks,” Shion said as he came in. Then he marked three points on the glass case with the marker Nezumi had brought. Stepping back, Shion surveyed his work with satisfaction, then asked Nezumi to hand him the lamp. 

Taking the lamp by the neck, Shion squinted at the glass tube. He drew his arm back, and hit the tube precisely on all three of the marked spots. As the metal lamp base made contact with the glass, it cracked loudly and bowed inwards but did not break. The cracks were all very square and regular; it had to be coated glass. They also overlapped perfectly, so that one spot in the centre of the tube was the joining point for the spiderweb network of lines embedded into the glass. 

Then Shion positioned himself so that the lamp base lined up with the centre of the cracked area, covered his face with his jacket, and hit the glass so hard that it exploded outwards. The liquid that was inside came rushing out the hole, splattering their clothes and skin. Both of them took a step back as more glass crumbled to the floor in the gushing tide. 

The wasp inside began to stir. 

First, her eyes began to glow. Then, her legs and antennae began to twitch. Finally, her whole body began to move, shaking all over like a damp dog trying to rid its fur of water droplets. Then, in a violent explosion of glass, the entire tube shattered, sending shards flying so hard into other tubes that they embedded themselves there. The wasp hung in the air, her wings vibrating. The gusts of air produced by her wings whipped Nezumi’s hair around his face. 

The grey veil between his mind and _the other_ blew away. The great chasm of thought opened before him, deep and dark and beckoning him downwards. He heard a voice in his head. 

_At last, Singer. At last you have come to free me_.

Her great voice rolled through Nezumi’s body like a wave. It slid into his ears like liquid and travelled through his veins. It was as if he had been struck by a bell, and his whole body was resonating with the sound. It was not painful, but it was frightening, and he could barely understand it. He couldn’t even turn his head to see if Shion could feel it too. He was too transfixed by the sight of the great golden wasp hovering before him. 

Now that she was free, she was beginning to take on an aura of godlike power. Her body was jet black with shimmering golden stripes and slim, golden antennae. Her transparent wings also had a golden sheen to them, and the thin lines connecting them to the wasp’s body were also golden, instead of the lowly black colour of the marks on Nezumi’s back. Her compound eyes shone a dull silver, but they were impenetrable and deep. She was a being made of opposites, a living yin yang bound together with beauty and majesty, and she was absolutely terrifying. 

_A beautiful monster, but a monster all the same_. 

Nezumi had no idea what to say or do. How did one respond to such a being? Nothing he could say would matter to her in the slightest. So he simply bowed. 

_I will go on ahead. You will come join me_.

That is what Elyurias said. And then she vanished. All the animals in the tubes around them vanished with her. 

Nezumi let out a deep breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. Shion was visibly shaken, his hands balled into fists as was his habit when he was angry or scared. But now the weight of the room had lifted. There were no more blank eyes, and the floor wasn’t so clean anymore. Nezumi felt almost as if he himself had been freed. A new strength surged through his tired body and mind. It was Elyurias’s gift to him.

“I never dreamed such a being truly existed,” he said in awe. The stories had been true; the goddess Elyurias was real. 

_Elyurias is arming her children_ …

“Me neither.”

The two boys contemplated the empty room. Shion managed to pull himself together first. 

“Our work here is done. Let’s go find Izanami.”

“Yes,” Nezumi agreed. “By the way, I picked up some of that B3 stuff for later.”

Shion froze. 

“ _What did you say_?”

Oh no. Shion was using the tone of voice he usually slipped into right before he did something Nezumi was afraid to watch. Or be a part of.

“I thought we could put it in water supply of No. 6. You know, so that some of them will die. That way the city will be distracted from the Hunt. And the more damage we can do in No. 6, the better.”

Shion got uncomfortably close to Nezumi’s face. “ _Give it to me right now_."

“What? Why?” Nezumi took a step back, and found himself pressed up against one of the glass tubes. He slipped the test tube from his sleeve into his palm, but did not show it to Shion.

Shion struggled to control himself. “It’s not leaving this room, that’s why.”

“Why not? What’s wrong with my plan? This is a perfect opportunity.”

“I don’t know how you could possibly be under the misconception that I want to inflict the same things on the people of No. 6 that were done to me?” Shion said, moving closer to Nezumi again. The glass was cold against his back, and he felt prickles of sweat forming at the nape of his neck. 

“But don’t you want to cause chaos in the city so we can stop the Hunt? Don’t you want to get revenge on them for what they did to you?”

“No, of course not.” Shion’s voice was like ice, but it wasn’t dangerously cold. It was angry, but not murderous. That was not a great comfort to Nezumi. He tightened his hold on the small vial. 

“I want to disrupt their communications, their security system, or their broadcasting system. Anything. But I don’t want to hurt or kill anybody. How are the people of No. 6 responsible for what their government is doing without their knowledge? Tell me.”

“They’re all wilfully ignorant. Ignorance is complicity,” Nezumi said. And that was how he truly felt. Anyone who let life pass them by without seeking to understand the greater workings of the world was a thoughtless, worthless fool, in his opinion. And that great, blighted city was full of such fools.

“Nezumi, anyone who speaks out against the government is put to death. Whether they do it in writing, or aloud. The tiniest whisper of dissent, and you’re dead or disappeared within twenty four hours. There are ears everywhere. It’s impossible to say what you really feel. Anyone who ever had the idea that something might be wrong is forced to keep it to themselves. If they speak out, they die – so how can you possibly blame them? Besides, what about the children? If Safu were still living there, would you want to kill her too? What about babies and toddlers? Are you going to poison them too?”

Shion’s eyes were wild. Nezumi was completely astounded at his reaction – which was, to Nezumi’s mind, vastly out of proportion. But – could he possibly be right? Was it possible for such a climate of fear to exist without the people’s knowledge? 

“I think they’re all just cowards,” he said, and then regretted it as Shion slammed his fist into the glass next to Nezumi’s head.

“Rou lost his legs over his desire for the truth to be known,” Shion said coldly. “My father left the city because he couldn’t stand living there anymore, for all its climate of fear. If my mother ever wanted to find me, it would have been impossible for her to do so, because her questioning the story of my death would have been tantamount to treason. Don’t you dare speak to me of cowardice. You don’t even know how wrong you are.”

He was so close to Nezumi’s face that Nezumi felt like he could barely breathe. To his relief, Shion stepped back and held out his hand. 

“Give it to me,” he ordered. “I’m putting it back where it belongs.”

Nezumi was suitably chastened, but still he hesitated. 

“How do you propose to stop the Hunt, then?” 

“I’ll destroy their central computer, of course. Now _give me the damned chemical before I snap_ —”

Shion bit back his threat, but it was clearly a struggle. Without further protest, Nezumi finally handed him the test tube. 

Once he was holding the vial, Shion calmed down almost instantly.

“Destroying the computer will be like shooting the Correctional Facility through the heart,” Shion said. “And you should know something. Our options aren’t ‘kill everyone’ or ‘do nothing.’ There is a third option. Take an action that changes the situation in the way you want but that doesn’t harm people. That’s the option I’ll take every time.”

“Don’t you think that’s overly idealistic?” Nezumi said, gingerly unsticking himself from the side of the glass tube. 

“I don’t care if it is. How could I live with myself if I did otherwise?”

Nezumi felt ashamed, then. Not of his hatred, but of the violent impulses that were arising from it. Without thought, he had threatened to hurt innocent people. Though he couldn’t help hating No. 6 and everything it stood for, he was not so consumed with rage that he couldn’t distinguish between the harmful and the harmless. And for all he accused Shion of being overly violent and dangerous, it was he who had suggested heedless murder. 

But he so wanted to stop the Hunt. He so wanted to bring the holy city to its knees. Would destroying the computer be enough? He could only hope. 

Mutely, he followed Shion from the room. Shion replaced the B3 vial next door.

They approached the third entrance, the one they had not yet opened. 

Izanami was behind that door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that was intense! Tackled the third option _and_ Elyurias all in the same chapter. But the most intense is still to come, trust me...
> 
> P.S. There is a new OC in the next chapter (oh no!). You have been warned.


	20. I've Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember that scientist who kept saying really creepy shit to Safu while she was being transformed in the Correctional Facility? Well, _that's Dr Ito_. Yes, I changed his gender to female.

The third door clearly lead to the central hub of the top floor. In the centre of the room was a massive computer, with many trailing cables linking it to smaller machines that lined the walls. This trailing mass of cables gave the computer the appearance of a big, ugly metal spider sitting in the centre of a wiry rainbow web. There was a large screen on the front of the computer, no doubt so that the scientists could directly control the entire city from one place. 

At first, Nezumi thought that there was no way Izanami was anywhere in this technological jumble. But on the wall to the right of the entrance was another doorway, which did not actually have a door. Beyond that doorway was a bathroom-sized, bare room. On one side was an empty cage, which contained a straw pallet and a chamber pot. On the other side of the room was a machine that clearly connected to the computer outside. Lying face-down on a gurney in front of the machine was Izanami. They had cut the back out of her shirt to admit several tubes and wires connected to the wing markings embedded into her back.

Nezumi rushed over to his sister and knelt beside her. Shion remained in the doorway.

“Izanami?” he said urgently. “Iza?”

At first, when she did not reply, Nezumi feared the worst. He held his hand in front of her mouth, but could feel no breath blowing against his palm. Then he raised one of her limp wrists and tried to find a pulse. 

There was a very, very faint but steady rhythm beating against his fingers. 

_Thank goodness. Thank goodness. Izanami, you’re alive_.

“Izanami?” he said again. He earned a soft moan in response. 

“Iza, Iza, open your eyes,” he said softly. He began to examine the wires attached to her back. It seemed that most of them went directly to the top of the wing markings, to the place where wing buds should have been if she had grown them properly. But there were a few connected to other parts of her back – and several embedded directly into her skin. The stitching holding them in place was sloppy and red. Nezumi felt anger rise within his chest. 

“Shion, can you…” 

As he glanced over at Shion, the words died in his throat. Shion was standing in the doorway, facing the computer room. His knees were sagging, and he was clutching the doorframe to hold himself up. He was perfectly silent, but Nezumi could see his shoulders rising and falling rapidly, as if he were breathing hard. His fingers were digging into the wood of the doorframe, and shaking ever so slightly.

Something was very, very wrong. 

“Shion?”

His voice was quiet, but it fell with a hollow, mute echo. Shion must have tried to reply, because Nezumi heard his breath hitch, but no sound came out. 

Then he heard a voice. 

“Well, hello. What have we here?”

It was a woman’s voice. A perfectly average female voice, but it sent chills down Nezumi’s spine before he could even see the speaker. Her tone was mocking, but not in a normal, human way. Somehow it was harsh and grating, yet masterful and – powerful. Yes, her voice rang with power. The woman knew she was in control, yet her every word was a weapon. She had no need to assert herself, yet she did so with every breath, as if she were playing the part of a capricious and demanding god. If a gun had a voice, this is what it would sound like. It made Nezumi feel small and pathetic, like a disgusting, slimy creature squirming under a microscope.

This was the hideous power of the ruling class of No. 6. 

Nezumi stood, coming up behind Shion so he could see the owner of this inhumane voice. 

The woman was standing in front of the computer, clad in a white labcoat. Nezumi noticed immediately that it had “No. 6” embroidered on the pocket and felt his blood run cold.

“ _The only way I can fight someone is if I imagine they’re in lab coats that say ‘No. 6.’_ ”

She had no other distinguishing features. She was an inch taller than Nezumi and had a chin-length bowl cut. It was hard to tell her age. Her thin face could go from very young to very old in an instant, depending on how the light hit it. She looked gentle at first glance, but her eyes were like Rashi’s – totally unsmiling, darker than her glossy black hair, as if they absorbed light instead of reflecting it. As if she were sucking everything she saw into herself. The woman had completely cut herself off from the external realm, and was wallowing in herself.

“Ahh, two lost little samples,” she said. 

“Who are you?” Nezumi demanded. 

“I am the head scientist here. This facility is my domain. My name is Ito Naoko. And you are?”

Briefly, Nezumi wondered why Dr Ito had not evacuated with the rest of the scientists. What was she still doing here?

“None of your business,” he replied coolly. He was determined not to let this woman deter him and Shion from completing their task. She didn’t look overly fit, so it should be a simple enough task to incapacitate her. 

“I see that you are a tree-dweller. From the logging town. How… delightful.” Her voice twisted the word so much that its original meaning was completely lost. It didn’t even sound ironic. It became nothing but an elongated sound of derision. Nezumi surmised that she must have noticed his eyes. 

“And your companion… oh, my lovely little Shion. I remember you. What a good test subject you were. Don’t you remember all those tests we did together? I was so sorry when you ran away. I’ve used your genes in thousands of different ways, did you know that? Ah, I can still remember the sequence of bases in your regulatory DNA. Thanks to you, I’ve built whole worlds. You are such a treasure to me. Your mother would be so proud to know the good you’ve done this city.”

Nezumi expected Shion to fly into a rage, to start shaking and clench his fists and get ready to attack. But he did not. He was frozen and mute. It was as if he were shrinking before Nezumi’s eyes, and Nezumi realised that he was trying to make himself as small as possible. His eyes were wide and panicked, as if he were staring into a blinding light. The blinding light of No. 6.

 _Shion, what has this creature done to you_?

“Oh, you’ve lost your voice again. I’m sorry. Don’t worry, you’re more attractive without it, my lovely, lovely boy. I wonder if you can still scream?”

“Stop talking to Shion,” Nezumi ordered. His voice came out low and threatening. He pushed himself defensively in front of Shion. 

Dr Ito raised her arm in a perfect arc. She was holding a gun which before had been hidden in the folds of her lab coat. 

“Now, now. Settle down. I don’t intend to harm you or your friend. I just want you in a cage where you belong. I need you, you see. Have you pupated yet? That would be absolutely wonderful.”

Narrowing his eyes, Nezumi unwrapped the superfibre cloth from around his neck and held it in front of himself like a shield. He silently dared her – 

_Go on, shoot me. Much good it’ll do you. I’ll be at your throat before you can shoot again_.

Dr Ito only smiled. The expression prompted Shion to finally lose his grip on the doorframe and fall backwards into the room behind him. Nezumi wanted to help him up, but could not turn around for fear of letting down his guard. 

“That little toy won’t help you at all,” she said. “This gun doesn’t use ordinary bullets. They’re coated specially. They’ll cut through that superfibre cloth as if it weren’t there at all.”

She frowned. “Of course, I would prefer not to damage your body, but the DNA is really what matters. And frankly, capturing just one of you would be enough. Oh, lucky day. I can’t believe Shion has walked right back into my hands. Oh, I did miss him so.”

 _This woman is a lunatic_.

Shion scrabled backwards, still sitting on his backside on the ground. Nezumi risked a glance behind him and saw that Shion was pressing himself up against the far wall. His face was totally frozen, but his eyes – they were screaming. 

Nezumi felt that he didn’t care if he got shot. This woman was going to die today, regardless of whatever else happened. 

_This is the woman who did turned Shion into what he is today. She put Izanami here. She is responsible for hurting two of the only people who matter to me in the world_.

 _I will destroy you_.

But at the back of his mind, he felt fear. How could he not? Her imposing voice, her black-hole eyes, her words which were so wrong they set his teeth on edge. Shion’s contagious terror. 

_Someone is going to get hurt…_

_I won’t let it be Shion. He’s suffered enough_.

Nezumi gritted his teeth. 

“You monster.”

“Yes, that’s nice. Get in the cage behind you like a good boy, won’t you now? Take your little friend with you. I think he’d feel safer behind bars. We acclimatize them to feel that way, you know. I like to provide a homey environment for my test subjects. Keeps stress levels down.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Nezumi saw Shion nod silently. But he made no move to comply. Perhaps he simply couldn’t. 

How could Nezumi disarm Dr Ito without getting Shion caught in the crossfire, and without getting shot? He quickly considered his options. There wasn’t much he could do at this distance.

Slowly, he folded the scarf around his neck so that it protected both his throat and his heart, and then he stepped forward. 

Dr Ito tensed. Nezumi had no doubt that she would use that gun if he wasn’t careful, so he didn’t move forward anymore. 

At least, not without distracting her. 

“You. You’re everything I hate about this city. You foul, wretched creature. You really think you can do anything, don’t you? But you’re not God. You have no power when everyone around you doesn’t fall at your feet. I've seen a _real_ god, and you're nothing like her. I’ve been ignoring commands like yours for my whole life. What makes you think I’ll start listening now?”

Dr Ito smiled. The expression, on her face, resembled the grinning of a wolf. It was a baring of fangs. But at the same time, her black-hole eyes were smiling.

 _Devil. You are no god. You must be the devil_.

“Did you know that death is not as excellent a motivator as you would think?” she said conversationally. “Surprising, isn’t it? No, no. A much better motivator is threatening to take away something. Something your subject cares for very much. I would say I’d shoot dear Shion here, but alas, he is too useful to die. He’s already been broken in, you see. It takes years to get them to the point he’s at. Besides, his test scores were excellent, at last check. What a waste it would be to kill him. What a waste. No, I’m too fond of him for that.”

She paused to look Shion directly in the eyes. He choked out a word which sounded almost like “No!” but it was very hard to tell, as the sound was strangled in his throat before it ever reached his lips. 

“No, no. That won’t do at all. Fortunately, there is a much better motivator. Would you like to know what it is?” Dr Ito continued. “It’s pain.”

And with that, she shot Nezumi through the shoulder. 

A savage pain tore through Nezumi’s body. He cried out in agony and clutched at his shoulder, but the arm that had been shot was too on fire to move. He felt hot, sticky sweat begin to course down his face, and his blood raced in his veins. But he remained standing.

 _Shion, is this even a fraction of the pain you experienced at the hands of this woman? You bore your burden, and so will I_.

“You filthy bitch,” Nezumi snarled. He was beginning to hyperventilate, and hoped he wasn’t going into shock. 

“Yes,” she said calmly. “Wouldn’t you like to know what else I can do to you?”

Nezumi heard a noise behind him, an animal noise. The sound of growling, low in the throat. As he was physically unable to speak, Shion had resorted to expressing his emotions by snarling like a dog.

 _Uh-oh_. 

Nezumi knew he had to be quick about this, before Dr Ito decided to shoot him again. So he forced his tired legs to stagger forwards towards her. She raised her gun again.

He wasn’t fast enough. 

Shion shoved past him and dove for Dr Ito’s throat. A shot rang past Nezumi’s cheek, and then a second time, but he didn’t see where it went. Then the gun skittered across the floor and gently alighted at Nezumi’s feet. Shion was physically wrestling with Dr Ito, pinning her legs down with his knees and fighting to get her hands under control. Nezumi picked up the gun with his uninjured arm. He raised it and tried to pinpoint some vital point of Dr Ito's body, but Shion kept blocking his line of sight. Before he could get a clear shot, Shion was strangling Dr. Ito to death with his bare hands. Her body thrashed around franticly, then went still.

“ _You will_ not _hurt Nezumi_.”

Those words made Nezumi’s blood run cold. 

“ _I could never stop you before. You stole my childhood. You made me beg and crawl. I forgot how to stand. I forgot how to live. How dare you? And then you shot Nezumi. How_ dare _you? I will never forgive you_.”

Did Shion even understand she was dead? He had not let go of her throat, even though she had stopped thrashing around.

“Shion…” Nezumi croaked. 

He had been planning to kill Dr Ito, but seeing Shion murder her so violently in front of his eyes… he felt shaken to his very core. It was like watching Shion transform into a wild animal. 

But if Shion was a wolf, then Dr Ito was a hellhound. 

And Nezumi was his namesake – small, weak, and very much afraid. 

The sound of his name seemed to bring Shion back to himself somewhat. He let go of Dr Ito’s throat and stared at his hands for a long moment. Then he held his palm in front of her face, lifted her wrist and wrapped his fingers around it. Nezumi realised he was checking for signs of life, just as he had done with Izanami just minutes ago. 

While Shion conducted his examination, Nezumi sank slowly to his knees, then sat down with his back to the wall. Blood from his shoulder was soaking his jacket, and the wound throbbed and burned. His head felt light, as if he might faint or fly away – he did not know which. It felt like the strength Elyurias had given him was gone. If only his legs were not at the point of giving out. If only he were stronger. 

_Body, why must you betray me_?

 _Shion, what have you done_?

Nezumi closed his eyes and shut out the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how much I hated Dr Ito when I first read the novel. (Well, not "Dr Ito" per sey. "Unnamed asshole scientist who keeps saying rape-y shit to Safu" is more like it.) Anyway, it always bothered me that s/he didn't have a nice dramatic death on screen, so I took matters into my own hands. 
> 
> I hope people don't mind the gender divergence, but I felt that there were enough threatening men in charge of No. 6 already. (The mayor, Fennec, Rashi.) 
> 
> I know that in the book Nezumi gets shot and then acts like it's nothing. But I thought that was awfully unrealistic. So here you go.
> 
> Well, there you have it folks. Shion's worst mental breakdown has happened. It all goes up from here, believe it or not.


	21. Cease From The Struggle of War’s Impartial Contention

He heard footsteps. Shion’s footsteps, tapping lightly against the tile floor. 

Shion’s footsteps stopped in front of him. Nezumi wanted to open his eyes again, but found that he was unable. He heard Shion’s voice, but it was fading in and out. Nezumi was losing consciousness. 

“Nezumi – Nezumi, open your eyes. Open your eyes, Nezumi.”

He felt light pressure on his shoulder, then heard the sound of a blade on fabric. Shion was cutting off the sleeves of his jacket and shirt. 

“Nezumi, Nezumi. I need you, Nezumi. Please, Nezumi, I really, really need you. Don’t go to sleep.” 

His name was repeated many times, like a chant, a prayer. Then, those words. _I need you. I really, really need you_. Shion was calling to him. Shion wanted him to stay. But it was such an effort. 

Nezumi forced his eyes open. Shion was applying some kind of powder to his shoulder. From his pocket, he withdrew a roll of bandages and a pad of gauze.

“You’re awake,” Shion sighed in relief. His face was covered in sweat, dirt, and blood, but to Nezumi it was the sweetest sight in the world. 

“Shion… you just killed…”

“I know.”

 _Shion, your hands can kill and they can heal. You too, are like Elyurias. You contain both light and dark, sunlight and shadow. I don’t know if I can pretend I understand you anymore. And I don’t know if I can begin to try, either. Where is your third option, Shion? Who are you_?

“And,” Shion said, beginning to wrap the bandage around Nezumi’s arm, “I will never kill anyone again.”

 _Is it true_? 

His movements were gentle and steady, jostling Nezumi’s shoulder as little as possible. Still, Nezumi had to clench his teeth to keep from crying out in pain. 

“Nezumi, listen to me. You’re going to live. You will walk away from this place. You will read books and sing songs and eat bread and wear dresses and find somebody to love. You must not give in. It doesn’t matter what I’ve done – I was cursed before I came here anyway.”

“Shion… I… You…”

“Hush,” Shion said. Nezumi could read in his face that he was shaken by what had happened, what he now had to do. But he was steady on his feet, and steady with his hands. 

_Shion, you have such strength. Will you let me borrow it, just for a little while_?

“Shion, I need you too.”

“Then you must wait for me,” Shion said seriously, standing up. “Don’t close your eyes again. I’m going to wake up Izanami.”

He walked through the doorway beside Nezumi. His footsteps stopped. Then there was silence for a long, long time. 

As he had been ordered, Nezumi forced himself to keep his eyes open. A series of confused thoughts swirled through his head. 

Shion had killed someone on his behalf. That woman had deserved to die for what she had done, but watching her body writhing around on the floor as she died… it was the most violent death Nezumi had ever seen. Nothing like the quick spurt of blood and the silent fall of someone who had been shot. Nezumi knew that Shion was far from innocent, but how could he have used his own hands to kill someone? The thought of it made him feel sick. Shion was a murderer…

Nezumi almost laughed at himself. Shion had been a murderer when he met him. How did seeing the act in front of him make it any different?

Because he didn’t want to believe… even after all this time… that Shion could be bad or evil. And yet, murder was an undeniably evil act. Especially such a violent and raw murder as this one.

Nezumi would have been willing to commit murder on Shion’s behalf. How was that different?

It was different because to Nezumi, Shion was a lost boy in the rain with a cut on his face. But this was reality, and he had to face it. Was it possible for him to accept Shion as he was? 

_There is great danger – but there is also great hope_.

How?

He could not answer his own thoughts. 

Then he heard a new, yet familiar voice.

“Who… who are you?”

It was Izanami. She was awake. 

Nezumi tentatively tried to stand. His head spun as he rose, but he was able to make it to his feet. 

“My name is Shion. I’m here to help you. Your brother is outside.”

“Nezumi? Nezumi is here… Oh no…”

“He’s… he’s alright,” Shion reassured her. “Can you put your arm around me? You have to leave this place as fast as possible.”

A moment later, the two of them emerged. Shion was supporting Izanami around the waist, and she had her arm around his shoulders. 

“Nezumi!” she cried when she saw him leaning against the wall. Her gaze fell on his bandaged shoulder. 

“You’re hurt!”

Her voice was tired and rusty, and her face shadowed with pain. But she was alive. Shion had given her his shirt, to cover her back. He was now wearing only a coat and sweater against his bare skin. Nezumi wondered what he had done about the tubes sewn into Izanami and hoped that they had been adequately dealt with. He did not know how long he had been sitting on the floor, so he didn’t know if Shion had had enough time to sew Izanami up properly. 

“I’m fine,” Nezumi said curtly, wrapping the superfibre cloth around his shoulder. He took a step forward and discovered that he could stand on his own. He didn’t know how. But he was there, standing, so he supposed he could go on.

 _Elyurias’s blessing… maybe she hasn’t deserted me after all_.

“There’s one more thing we have to do before we leave,” Shion said. 

“Blow up the computer?

“Yes.”

Shion let go of Izanami’s waist, and withdrew from his pocket a micro-bomb. Where had he gotten that from? Nezumi didn’t ask. 

“You two. Get to the exit. I don’t know what will happen when I ignite this.”

Nezumi and Izanami shuffled over to the doorway together. Shion placed the coin-shaped bomb on one of the computer’s many small projections, then put two more bombs on other parts of it for good measure. 

The three of them exited the room and closed the door. Shion took from his pocket a small metal device, which had one button and one dial on it. He turned the dial up to maximum, then pressed the button. 

There was a huge boom, and the entire building shook. For a moment Nezumi felt like a flea being shaken from the back of a dog. He and Izanami stumbled, but Shion stood firm. All the lights went out, and smoke began to issue from around the edges of the doorframe. 

Almost instantly, an alarm began to sound over the intercom, so loudly it rattled their eardrums.

 _Emergency alert. Emergency alert_.

 _Level 5, Level 5_.

 _Emergency evacuation. Emergency evacuation_.

 _All personnel, evacuate immediately_.

 _Level 5, Level 5_.

“Let’s get out of here,” Izanami said urgently. 

Nezumi took one of his sister’s arms, and Shion took the other, and the three of them limped rapidly back to the elevator. 

When they reached it, Shion let go of Izanami and said, “Nezumi, do you know the way out of here?”

Nezumi hesitated suspiciously. “Yes, assuming we can go back the way we came.”

 _What are you planning now, Shion_?

“Good,” said Shion, pressing the button for the elevator. It arrived almost instantly. Nezumi supposed the elevators were not computer operated, or it would be totally out of commission. 

Nezumi and Izanami got into the elevator. Shion did not. 

“Come on, Shion,” Nezumi said impatiently, straddling the divide between the inside of the elevator and the hallway to keep the elevator from closing. 

Shion shook his head. “I’m not coming with you.”

“What? Why not?”

“I can’t. I’m a product of this facility. I should die with it.”

“What are you talking about?” 

Izanami watched the exchange with wide eyes. 

“I just killed someone,” Shion said. “How can I say I deserve to live?”

The hallways was beginning to heat up. Probing tendrils of smoke were trying to coil their way into the elevator. 

_We have to get out of here. We don’t have time for this_ , Nezumi thought, but his feet wouldn’t obey. 

“You didn’t ask to be made into a murder, Shion,” he said impatiently. “Get in the elevator.”

“But –”

“Shion. _I forgive you_. Come with me. I need you.”

Nezumi reached out and put his hand on one side of Shion’s face. He coiled a few strands of Shion’s white hair around his fingers. Though Shion was covered in dirt and sweat, his hair had not lost its beautiful snow-white lustre.

Shion closed his eyes and pressed his cheek closer to Nezumi’s hand. He took a deep breath.

“Nezumi, I can’t…”

Izanami reached out, grabbed Shion by the front of his jacket, and pulled him into the elevator. Nezumi, too startled to move, found himself pulled backwards by the scarf. Then Izanami slammed the ‘down’ button on the elevator and they began to move.

Nobody spoke for a moment. 

Then Nezumi smiled wanly. He was too tired to laugh. 

“Thanks.”

“Always happy to save your ass, big bro,” Izanami said. Nezumi was so grateful to hear a spark of spunk in her voice, even after everything she had seen and been through. 

“I’m sorry,” Shion said in a small voice. He was blinking back tears.

Nezumi put his uninjured hand on Shion’s shoulder. “We came into this place together, and we’re going to leave it together,” he said firmly. 

The three of them were silent until the elevator stopped. 

The doors opened on a scene of total chaos. Some of the prisoners who were kept on other levels of the facility had gotten loose, and they were now running frantically here and there, some of them screaming and foaming at the mouth. Any prisoner who found himself in the Correctional Facility knew that he would be there for life, so they would take any opportunity to escape, not matter how unlikely it was that they would succeed. Chasing these prisoners were many guards with guns, who shot indiscriminately at anything moving that wasn’t wearing a uniform. There were several corpses strewn across the ground, including Rashi’s.

 _Good riddance_. 

“Shit,” Nezumi said. His limbs felt like lead, and Izanami was barely standing on her own. How would they ever make it through this?

“Give me the scarf,” Shion said.

“Huh?”

“The superfibre cloth, give it to me.”

With trembling fingers, Nezumi untied the scarf from around his neck and shoulders, then handed it to Shion. Wrapping the scarf around all three of them, Shion led them from the elevator. Their legs were partly exposed, but they were for the most part protected. Nezumi noticed that Shion reserved the smallest part of the cloth for himself and felt a chill go down his spine. 

_Shion… are you still determined to stay here as a corpse_?

“We have to get to the garbage chute,” Shion said grimly. 

“The garbage chute?”

“Just trust me.”

 _ ~~I do~~_.

Slowly, so painfully slowly, they left the shelter of the elevator and began advancing across the circular room. Because the superfibre cloth was pulled up over their faces, Nezumi could barely see where he was going, and had no idea how Shion could either. Maybe he knew this place so well he didn’t have to see to know where he was going.

A bullet struck the superfibre cloth, directly over Nezumi’s chest. The impact was painful, and he staggered, but did not stop. 

“Nezumi?” Izanami said worriedly. 

“I’m fine,” he reassured her. “Just keep walking.”

They were moving so slowly, so slowly, _so slowly_ – 

The smoke was beginning to fill the hall. Where was it coming from? Nezumi could not tell. This chaos, this shouting and shooting and heat and slow, crawling motion forward, was just another form of hell on top of all the others he had already survived that day. It was as if each new stage in the journey brought a new descent to another level of the underworld. If this were truly so, they were rapidly approaching the furnace itself. 

Suddenly a new wave of prisoners rushed out of a nearby hallway, directly towards them. Instantly, Shion pushed Izanami and Nezumi up against the wall, and they flattened themselves there as the horde of screaming people ran past, pursued by guards. A few guards loosed some shots at the trio huddled up against the wall, but most of them were more interested in pursuing the escaped prisoners. A giant prisoner suddenly stopped and turned back to the pursuing guards. He ignored the hail of bullets raining down on him, grabbed one guard by the wrists, and started using him to knock over other guards. 

A bullet pierced his heart and he dropped to the ground, dead. 

But now the way forward was clear. 

“Run!” Shion ordered, and the three of them dashed down the hallway as fast as their wounded legs could carry them. 

They reached the second set of elevators, and took them back down to the level with the empty offices. Not a single person remained at their computer, not even corpses.

Shion led them through a twisting maze of corridors. Everywhere, smoke and fire. Everywhere, bodies lying in pools of their own leaked blood. Were some of those people still alive? Nezumi could not tell. And even if they were, how could he stop to check? And what would he do if they were? He had to keep going. He had no choice. If he stopped moving he was lost.

His eyes began to spill over from the smoke. He felt as if he were moving through a thick fog; he could barely breathe. His chest was tightening.

Just when he thought he might pass out, Shion stopped. They were facing an opening in the wall, which was just big enough around for a slim person to squeeze into. It had had a lid at some point, but that was now cracked and useless. Shion peeled it aside with no trouble.

“This chute goes from the third floor directly to the basement. We have to go down it. There is no other way out.”

“We’ll fall three stories?” Izanami asked.

Shion shook his head. “There are twists and turns in the chute. If we’re lucky, we should be able to slide down it. It will be painful. But we won’t break all our bones.”

“Just get in,” Nezumi coughed.

“Yes. I’ll get in first, then Izanami. Nezumi, you get in last. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” Izanami said.

“Yes, just _go_!”

Shion unwrapped the scarf from the three of them and put it on his legs, presumably to break his fall. Then he hopped into the chute. Nezumi helped Izanami climb in, on her stomach so she wouldn’t injure her back further, and then he slid in after her.

The inside of the garbage chute was dark, smelly, and small. Nezumi could not care less. The darkness was peaceful, the smell was nothing compared to the smell in the Pit, and the size of the chute allowed him to brace his arms against the wall to slow his fall somewhat. 

Three bodies slid down the chute. They fell into what felt like a slick, black infinity.

Somewhere below him, Nezumi heard a loud exclamation.

“Ah - !”

Then, the sound of flesh hitting concrete. And again, flesh hitting flesh. 

Shion fell out of the chute, Izanami landed on top of him, and now it’s my turn, he thought dispiritedly. 

And at that moment, he shot out of the end of the chute and landed directly on top of his sister and Shion.

“Ow!” Izanami wailed. Nezumi realised he had landed on her injured back, and hurriedly rolled off of her.

Before he could apologize, someone walked up to them and brusquely dragged Izanami off of Shion. 

“You three look like shit.” Inukashi’s voice. “What took you so long? Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ve got a car waiting.”


	22. To The Evening Breeze

The basement wasn’t as smoky as the upper floors, but it still wasn’t totally clear. Nezumi couldn’t wait to get out so he could feel his lungs again. 

As he stood up, Inukashi said, “I dunno what you two’ve done in there, but everyone in No. 6 is dying. Hey, are you okay?”

“We’re just fine,” Nezumi said sarcastically through gritted teeth. “Can we just leave, already?”

“Yeah, I got a driver, just like Shion said.” Inukashi jerked his thumb at the exit. “Thought you’d probably be deader’n’ you were when you came out, but I guess not. Hey, let’s move it!”

Nezumi and Inukashi helped Izanami and Shion stand, and the four of them moved as quickly as their legs could carry them to the exit.

Exiting the Correctional Facility was like being reborn. Outside, the air was much clearer. The light of the sky poured strength into Nezumi’s exhausted body. On the road, a small van was idling. Inside, a pasty-looking man with a small moustache, a two-tone hat, and a beer gut was waiting at the wheel. 

As they made their way over to the van, Shion spoke. “Everyone’s dying? What are you talking about?”

“Who gives a fuck,” Nezumi muttered, but Shion didn’t hear. 

“There’s some kinda swarm of bugs in No. 6,” Inukashi explained. 

“Oh no…” 

“Yeah, directly over the Moondrop,” Inukashi said with relish. “Anybody who gets stung by ‘em just falls over and dies.”

Shion opened the car door for Nezumi and Izanami, and all three of them slid into the backseat – Izanami behind the passenger seat, Nezumi in the middle, and Shion on the other side. 

“I wonder if it’s bees,” Shion said. 

“Sure, could be,” Inukashi said. 

“This whole thing is ridiculous,” the driver cut in. “A swarm of bees, terrorizing the city? No way.”

“Shut it, Rikiga,” Inukashi retorted. “Just drive.”

“Where?”

“We should go straight to a doctor,” Shion said. “But-”

“But you _are_ a doctor,” Inukashi broke in, sounding perplexed.

“I don’t know how to treat Nezumi’s wound properly,” Shion admitted. “And besides, I’m exhausted. I don’t think I can work like this. I’m sorry.” He looked down at his hands. 

“There isn’t another doctor in the West Block,” Inukashi said flatly. “You’re it, Shion. So where do ya plan to go?”

“I know someone who would help us… for a price. But you know, if Elyurias is killing people in No. 6, then we have to go in there. We were the ones who set her free, so it’s our responsibility.”

Nezumi was so, so tempted to tell Shion that he didn’t give two shits what happened to the people of No. 6, but he remembered what had happened in the room of empty tubes and reined in his annoyance. 

Still. “I’ve been shot and Izanami…” Actually, he didn’t know what state Izanami was in.

“Izanami should be fine until the anaesthetic wears off,” Shion said. “Just… let’s go towards the city, and we can make up our minds on the way there.”

“Got it,” Rikiga said, putting the car into gear. With a lurch, they were off, but fortunately Rikiga’s driving was marginally better than Shion’s. And, the car’s suspension was much better than the stuff on that stolen truck from that morning. 

And so they left the burning Correctional Facility behind them. 

Nezumi felt only marginally safer. His arm was absolutely throbbing, and he felt physically exhausted. But at least they were no longer trapped inside that hellhole of death. 

Nezumi turned his attention to his sister. “Anaesthetic? What did you do to her?”

“Show him?” Shion asked Izanami. 

She unbuttoned Shion’s shirt and twisted around in the seat so Nezumi could see her back. 

Nezumi nearly choked. Shion hadn’t removed the tubes and wires from her at all; he had simply cut them down as short as he could and used the same powder he’d put on Nezumi to stop the bleeding. Worse still, now that she was moving around (and now that Nezumi had landed on her) her entire back was red and inflamed. Nezumi could see where her skin was pulling away from the stitches.

“Shion!” he snapped. 

“I know… I’m sorry,” Shion said, looking down at his hands. “There wasn’t any time…”

Nezumi understood that. But this… this…

_No, I have to stop blaming Shion. This is something No. 6 has done. Just another crime on top of all the others._

“Hospital first,” Nezumi said.

Izanami craned her neck to try and see her back. 

“I don’t feel anything,” she said reassuringly. “I’ll be fine. Let’s go to the Moondrop first.”

Just then, Inukashi, who was watching from the passenger seat, said, “Look!”

“What?”

“Look at her back.”

“I am, dogboy.”

“Yeah? Well, ain’t’cha noticin’ sommat?”

Nezumi tried to see past the angry red stitches, but didn’t – Wait.

Izanami’s back was shimmering. Or rather, the bits of unbroken wing marking were turning gold.

“What the…”

“What is it?” Izanami complained. Shion put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down onto the seat, as she was straining so hard to see her back that she was half-standing.

“Put your shirt back on,” Shion said. “Nezumi, you… Oh. Izanami, see if you can lift his shirt. I want to know if his are doing the same thing.”

With an impatient sigh, Izanami complied. After she’d buttoned up her shirt, she lifted the hem of Nezumi’s shirt and jacket.

“Well?” Nezumi asked. 

“Your back… it’s glowing,” Izanami said in surprise. 

“Moondrop it is,” said Nezumi.

Izanami let go of his shirt, and he gave a glance out the window. He realised that he didn’t recognize where they were at all. 

“Are we… inside the city?”

They had passed through the wall and he hadn’t even noticed?

“Yes,” Rikiga replied.

“How’d we get in?”

“Same way we tried to get in this morning,” Shion said. “Since we blew up the computer, all the defense systems are down.”

Inukashi said, “So that’s why everything was on fire?”

“Yep,” Izanami replied happily. Rikiga let out a low whistle.

Shion was staring out the car window, his nose practically pressed to the glass. 

“Shion?” Nezumi asked. He didn’t see anything interesting outside. Just perfectly manicured trees and grass, so bright and unnatural they gave him a headache. 

Shion did not reply. Izanami poked him in the shoulder. 

“Huh?”

“Shion, what’s so fascinating? Seen your mother out there or something?”

Shion shook his head, still looking out the window. A moment later the question registered, and he said, “No… I just… I can’t believe I’m back inside… I’m inside the walls again…”

True, this was Nezumi’s first time inside the walls. But he was determined not to care about anything that he saw there. 

_These bastards aren’t gonna get me to be impressed over their wretched city. I don’t give a shit about this place_.

“It’s not very exciting, is it?” Izanami said, wrinkling her nose. 

“What were you expecting?” Nezumi said disdainfully. 

“I don’t know… more robots? More flying cars?”

There were actually no other cars on the road at all. Which was good, because even though Rikiga’s car was very, very nice by West Block standards, it still stuck out like a sore thumb against the gleaming roads and houses of No. 6. 

As they neared the Moondrop, the emptiness of the streets became more and more eerie. It was like driving through a ghost town. The experience was even stranger for Nezumi, who had never pictured No. 6 like this at all. Where were the elites? Where were those cosseted, oblivious, arrogant people he’d hated all his life? 

The answer became clear as they pulled up in front of the Moondrop. 

There were bodies littering the streets. 

Young and old, male and female, people lay where they had fallen. They all looked equally inert and pathetic. Their faces were horrified, screaming; but no sound could be heard. That is, until they stepped out of the car. 

Then their ears were filled with the sound of millions of wings. Nezumi shuddered. It was the chorus of buzzing he’d heard in his head the night he had pupated. But that terrible, small voice was mercifully absent. And where was the sound coming from?

He looked up. 

Hovering over the Moondrop was what looked like a golden tornado. Surrounding it was a massive swarm of tiny golden insects, their translucent wings beating in near-perfect unison. Every so often a small clump would break away from the swarm and swoop down into the city, presumably to claim another victim. 

“My God…” Shion said. 

“We have to get Elyurias to stop this,” Izanami said urgently. 

“How?”

“I don’t know, but we have to do _something_!”

Both Izanami and Nezumi looked at Shion. 

“Let’s climb the Moondrop,” he said. 

“What? Why?”

“Think about it. The tornado is above the Moondrop. Don’t you think that she’d be in there?”

“Oh, I see. You want to talk to her.”

“No, he wants us to talk to her,” Izanami said excitedly. “Come on, let’s go!”

She practically dragged Nezumi and Shion towards the door of the Moondrop. Inukashi and Rikiga watched from the car, not daring to leave its safety. 

Inside, the Moondrop thrummed with buzzing. It was a deafening, droning sound, and Nezumi wished with all his heart that it would fall silent. 

Shion led them to the elevator, but the doors wouldn’t open. After a few moments of quick searching, Izanami found the stairs to the top floor, and they reluctantly started climbing. With every step he took, Nezumi cursed his injured shoulder, and the steady droning of the swarm. By the time they reached the top he was ready to shoot down every bee by himself, if only to stop the buzzing. 

_Buzz, buzz, buzz…_

There was only one room on the top level: an office. Sitting at the desk was a man Nezumi did not recognize, who had rather large ears. 

“It’s the Mayor,” Shion said. 

“And he’s dead,” Izanami observed. 

How had the bee gotten in? The window that opened onto the balcony, clearly. 

Nezumi stepped onto the balcony and looked up. If he had raised his arm, he could have touched the swarm of bees. His instincts were screaming at him to get away from the seething mass of tiny bodies, but there was nowhere closer to Elyurias, so he forced himself to stay. Izanami tentatively emerged from the building, accompanied by Shion. The three of them stood there for a moment until Izanami said, “We have to sing.”

“What?”

“Elyurias did call you Singer,” Shion reminded Nezumi. 

“Yeah, so what?”

“So that’s our job,” Izanami insisted. “We have to sing.”

“Sing what?”

“Give me a minute.”

Izanami closed her eyes. She was perfectly still for a moment, then she opened her mouth and began to sing. 

_In a wood far away, I was ripped from my home_  
 _The apple drops from my hand, my gaze sinks to the ground_  
 _And a cold wind blows_  
 _Oh heart, oh life, oh, oh._

Though Nezumi did not recognize the words of the song, the tune somehow felt familiar. He lifted his head and joined his voice to Izanami’s. 

_In a dark stone cave, I was ripped from my body_  
 _The hope drops from my hand, my wings grow limp and still_  
 _And a cold wind blows_  
 _Oh heart, oh life, oh, oh._

_In a silent black sea, I was ripped from myself_  
 _I cry out without words, my voice grows hoarse and timid_  
 _And a cold wind blows_  
 _Oh heart, oh life, oh, oh._

Then Nezumi’s melody began to diverge from Izanami’s, but in a way that wove their voices together in harmony. Nezumi, lost in the glory of song, did not notice that the buzzing was steadily growing quieter and quieter. 

_Oh, for green trees and blue sky_  
 _(Oh heart, oh life)_  
 _For time stretching before me_  
 _(Oh life, oh soul)_  
 _For my home that is lost_  
 _(Oh soul, oh joy)_  
 _For a wind that is warm_  
 _(Oh joy, oh hope)_  
 _For the apple that fell from my hand_  
 _(Oh hope, oh heart)_  
 _For light and for breath_  
 _(Oh heart, oh life)_  
 _For freedom_  
 _For peace_

_Oh heart, oh soul, oh, oh._

Their jaws snapped shut in unison, and Nezumi opened his eyes. 

Elyurias was hovering in the air before him. Her wings beat the air, blowing a chill wind over the trio on the balcony.

_Well done, Singers_.  
 _You have found the words of the people_.

Nezumi, Izanami, and Shion all bowed, Shion more deeply than the two Forest People. 

_Now, why have you summoned me_?  
 _I sense there is a prayer in your hearts_. 

Nezumi spoke. “Elyurias, hear our plea. Please, stop this killing.” 

_Foolish creatures_.  
 _Creatures full of arrogance and deceit_.  
 _Humans are not worthy of the life that has been given them_. 

“Perhaps they aren’t,” Izanami said passionately, “But they’ll never become worthy of anything if all they know is suffering. Please, just give us one more chance.” 

As one of the Forest People, how can you believe in the citizens of No. 6? 

“It is not the citizens who are responsible for our torture.” Nezumi spoke again. “It is what they unwittingly created. If this choking vine were gone, perhaps the tree could grow tall and straight once more.” 

_You could be free of this city once and for all_.  
 _Are you sure this is truly what you wish for yourselves, Singers_? 

“Yes.” 

“Yes.” 

_You no longer need to loathe No. 6_? 

Nezumi paused for a moment. After everything that had happened, how did he feel about this cursed city? 

He had seen its darkest, hidden secrets. He had seen the world inside the walls, and how inane it all was. And he had seen what it had done to two people he cared about very much. The one, physically damaged but rescued before it was too late. The other, irreparably changed, body and mind. Yet Shion did not hate No. 6. And if he didn’t, then who did have the right? If Shion believed that choking the life out of No. 6 was wrong, how could Nezumi say it was the right path? 

“No,” he said. “I don’t.” 

_So it shall be_. 

And Elyurias vanished, taking the golden light and wind with her. The sky was clear. The swarm was gone. 

“Thank you,” Shion said. 

Before Nezumi could reply, Izanami said, “Of course.” 

Suddenly, a great wind started up. 

_What? Has Elyurias betrayed her word_? 

Nezumi glanced frantically around, trying to see if the swarm had come back. Then, Shion pointed to a spot in the distance. 

“The walls,” he said. 

Nezumi stared. Hovering over the great wall of No. 6 was the same golden tornado that had recently hung over No. 6. Before his eyes, the tornado lowered itself to the wall. With a crash that shook the earth and sky, the wall cracked, split, and a huge chunk of it fell away. Then, the great wind moved to four other places in the wall, each at a different point on the horizon, and destroyed them. 

“The wall has fallen,” Izanami said solemnly. 

“We’re free,” said Shion. His eyes were so glad that Nezumi’s heart did a little flip, but he pretended it was because he, too, was so grateful to Elyurias for bringing down the wall. 

Just as suddenly as it had come, the wind disappeared again. Nezumi staggered backwards and clutched at the balcony railing. 

“Nezumi?” 

Nezumi felt as if he were floating in a daze. His limbs were so heavy, he could barely move them. It seemed that this time, Elyurias had not blessed him with strength. 

“It must be blood loss,” Shion said. “We have to get him away from here…” 

Shion and Izanami helped Nezumi down those long, long flights of stairs. He did not know how, but he found himself in Rikiga’s car again. Inukashi was jabbering excitedly about the wall – _Did you see that? The wall’s gone. There was a tornado. This is so great. I don’t believe it!_ – and Shion was holding Nezumi’s hand. 

They drove through the city, which was a blur in Nezumi’s eyes, until they arrived at a hospital. He knew it was a hospital because it had a big green plus sign on the front. Once again, Izanami, Shion, and Inukashi helped Nezumi get inside, though he did not want to. He had had enough of No. 6’s institutions for one day. Unfortunately, his protests were too feeble to stop his sister from dragging him inside. 

That was all he remembered when he woke up in a hospital bed a few hours later. 

He had never been in a hospital before. So this was what it was like… very white and sterile, like the Correctional Facility but with just a touch more life. A potted plant on the windowsill, for instance. Floral curtains. How nice. He wanted nothing more than to burn it all down. 

Shion was sitting at the foot of the bed. Nezumi sat up quickly. He noted that he was wearing some kind of stupid backless gown and that his shoulder had been re-bandaged. He didn't feel any pain from his shoulder, but he did feel groggy from the anaesthetic. His physical sensations were a bit muffled, and every time he moved he overshot and had to correct himself. But he was awake, alive, and bullet-free. 

“Nezumi. You’re awake," Shion said. 

“Yes, I am. Why are we here?” 

“Closest medical facility. And because of the confusion, they’re not checking IDs. I estimate we have about half an hour until someone comes around to find out who we are. Inukashi’s with Izanami. Once she’s woken up, we can go.” 

Nezumi slumped back on to his pillows. “I want my jacket.” _So I can fucking leave before shit hits the fan._

“It’s ruined.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“I threw it out because it was unsanitary.” 

“What?” Nezumi sputtered. Where’s my scarf? You better not have thrown that out too!” 

“I have it. But it needs to be cleaned before you can have it back.” 

“Then what am I supposed to wear?” 

Shion handed Nezumi a folded shirt, which was not his own. It was an ugly yellow colour and of a totally unflattering cut, but it fit him alright, though. 

“Where did you get this?” 

Shion looked a little worried by this question. 

“Well…” he began. 

At that moment, the door burst open. Standing there was Inukashi, who apparently didn't know how to knock. 

“We gotta go, Shion. Some guy just came into Iza’s room and asked me who the hell I was. I said some shit but I don’t think he believed me," Inukashi announced. Nezumi sighed inwardly. He wasn't surprised that they had been found out so quickly. Whose genius idea had it been to come to this place, again? 

“Is Izanami awake?” Shion asked. 

“Yeah, I threw some water on her. She’s up.” 

“Inukashi–” Shion started. “You know what, never mind. Let’s go.” 

He helped Nezumi stand and keep his balance as they snuck through the polished white floors of the hospital. Nezumi tried not to look at it very hard, as the whole place gave him a headache. They followed Inukashi back to Izanami's room and helped her out of bed. Though two members of the party were still foggy from the anaesthetic, they managed to make it to the exit without attracting too much attention. And just like that, they all hurried out of the hospital again, back into Rikiga’s car. 

Nezumi totally ignored the scenery as they passed through No. 6 again, opting instead to lightly doze in the backseat with his head on Shion's shoulder. He was utterly sick of the city, and didn’t care to look at it any longer. If Inukashi was talking, he didn't care to hear it. He wanted to be back in the filthy, safe West Block, where a rat like himself belonged. At some point, though he was only half-conscious, he felt a light pressure on his palm and realised that Shion had laced their fingers together. He gave Shion's hand a light squeeze and felt an answering one in return. Then he dozed off again, until Rikiga suddenly stopped the car and jerked him awake. 

To his surprise, Rikiga had not driven to the West Block at all. When Nezumi peered out the window, he saw - the familiar concrete bunkers of his family's town. He had never expected to be so glad to see those ugly things in all his life. 

When Nezumi and Izanami got out of the car, Shion stayed seated inside it, looking dolefully at his feet. 

“Aren’t you coming?” Nezumi said in an irritated tone. He was not in the mood to play games. 

“But I –” 

This time, both Nezumi and Izanami pulled Shion forcibly from the car. 

After Rikiga and Inukashi drove off, Nezumi, Izanami, and Shion entered Nezumi’s house. There followed a blur of hugs and kisses, of joyous voices and ringing welcomes. Nezumi was too tired to appreciate any of the specifics, but he did feel a warm-ish glow in his chest. That was all he would later remember of that evening, anyway. Soon his parents and grandmother released their returned children to go rest, a proposal which they gladly accepted. 

Shion and Nezumi fell into bed together, without even bothering to undress, and were asleep within an instant. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. It's rushed. I had to get it out of the way so I could study for finals XD I'm sorry...  
> I'll probably go rewrite this later. Hope it's an okay placeholder for now.
> 
> By the way, I wrote the song.
> 
> Ugly anime shirt cameo!  
> Also, in case you're wondering where Shion got it from...  
> He stole it off a dead guy. Byeeeeee~


	23. That Which I Say I Saw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference pic of Nezumi's mother! [[X](http://nambaa-shikkusu.tumblr.com/post/46675307298/pixiv-id-34642656-member)]  
> Incredibly shitty references for everyone else! [[X](http://akumeoi.deviantart.com/#/art/incredibly-shitty-ref-495599291?hf=1)]  
> Actually, strike half of that. I found a much better reference for Izanami! [[X](http://kirachu.tumblr.com/post/107754065096/silver-me-timbers-and-i-have-discussed-an-au)]

The next morning. 

When Nezumi woke up, Shion was gone. For a moment, he panicked. 

_Shion? Where are you_?

His brain was inexplicably full of fire and guns and the stench of death. 

_Shion? Shion_??

As he became more awake and his mind came into focus, he calmed down a little. He was not in the Correctional Facility. He was here, at home. Home… how strange. Not home in the West Block, home in the forest, with his family. And Shion was here too, and Shion was safe. But Shion did have that annoying little habit of waking up before Nezumi. He was probably upstairs eating, or making friends with Nezumi’s mother, or something. 

Calm now, Nezumi sat up. Instantly, his entire body protested. He had bruises from riding in Shion’s stolen car, bruises from running and fighting, and bruises from the places where bullets had hit the superfibre cloth. Not to mention an actual bullet wound. All of these wounds and bruises throbbed in chorus, clamouring for his attention. Well, his body would just have to deal with it, because he wanted to go find Shion.

Besides, he was almost pleased to feel the stiffness in his limbs. It meant he was alive. That was more than he had been hoping for. 

Feeling like an old man (a _living_ old man), Nezumi got dressed, then made his way upstairs. Shion was not in the main room of the house, but his sister was. At the sight of her, Nezumi’s face broke into a tentative smile. 

“Izanami,” he said affectionately, going over to ruffle her hair. 

“’Morning, Nezumi,” she said. She had dark circles under her eyes, and was moving her shoulders and hips as little as possible so as not to stretch the skin on her back, Nezumi noted. But she, too, smiled when she saw him. And put her arms around his waist as he stood beside her. 

“Have some breakfast.”

“There’s breakfast?”

“Yes. Shion went into the woods and got the first of the spring strawberries. They’re a bit sour.”

Nezumi shrugged, sitting down next to his sister and helping himself to a handful of the tiny, tart red berries. 

“Where is Shion?” Nezumi said casually. It was stupid of him, but he couldn’t help but feel Shion’s absence keenly. The world was not the same today as it had been yesterday or the day before. It would have been nice to have Shion by his side, to help him face this strange new world. Not that Nezumi _needed_ Shion to be there, of course. But it would have been nice. 

“Don’t know,” Izanami replied, licking strawberry juice from her fingertips. “Is that all you can ask your long-lost sister? ‘Where’s my boyfriend?’ That’s nice.”

“You’re not long-lost, and he’s not my boyfriend.” Nezumi popped a strawberry into his mouth and discovered that it was even sourer than he had expected. But food was food, and he was hungry. 

“I was in mortal peril,” Izanami said indignantly. 

“You and me both. And him too. Stop complaining, I saved your ass.”

Izanami grinned. “Mom’ll be so proud of you,” she teased. Nezumi rolled his eyes, reaching for another strawberry.

“Speaking of which, Mom and Dad and Gran had a little conference last night while you were asleep.”

“They did?”

“Yeah. They say we’re moving out of here as soon as possible. They’re at a meeting with the rest of the town right now. They want us to go back and live in the forest again, like we used to.”

Good. The forest was where they belonged. 

“When we go back, we can grow strawberries that are better than this shit.” 

Nezumi added another tuft of green leaves to the growing pile on the table. Izanami had lined hers up neatly, but he was just plopping them down one on top of each other. 

“So you’re okay with it?” Izanami asked. 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well… didn’t you want to live with Shion?”

Nezumi nearly spat out a mouthful of berries. 

“Stop making stupid assumptions, why don’t you?”

Izanami watched him with her eyes narrowed in amusement. “Don’t you think Shion would want you to live with him?”

“He’s a big boy. He can handle living alone.”

Putting down her last strawberry top at the end of the line, Izanami folded her arms. 

“You’re going to make him live alone.”

“I mean… I guess he could come with us, if he wanted too.”

“He won’t want to.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He’ll feel awkward. Besides, he’s a city boy.”

“Since when do you know so much about Shion?” Nezumi said grouchily. 

“Since we had a conversation this morning. Well. I talked at him, he replied with monosyllables. I got everything out of him that I needed to know, though.” Izanami grinned impishly. Nezumi shook his head and tried not to think about what she might mean. 

“You’re not gonna understand him from just one conversation. He’s very complicated. Hell, I don’t even understand him half the time. He’s insane anyway.” That last sentence was tacked on as a muttered afterthought. Izanami laughed. 

“Look, Nezumi. All I need to understand is that you should at least consider going back to the West Block with him. I think he really needs you.”

Nezumi thought about that desperate moment yesterday when, in a moment of panic, Shion had said those exact words: “I really need you.” He thought of his overwhelming desire, in that moment and in many moments before, to scoop Shion up and hold him until he felt safe again. To bare his fangs at the world, not on his own behalf, as he had done for his whole life, but on behalf of another. But how would it be possible? He and Shion were from separate worlds. The rhythms of their lives were not meant to overlap. 

“Let me get this straight. You want me to leave my family – that’s _you_ , by the way – so I can go live in a city that I hate on behalf of a near-stranger?”

“No, I don’t. I’ll miss you,” Izanami said softly. 

_Then why_ …?

“I’m arguing this because I think you’re not listening to yourself properly, as usual. You always want to tell yourself that your emotions are stupid, and then you go and get your own feelings hurt because you pretended they didn’t exist in the first place. I might not know Shion, but I know you.”

“I think you’re just trying to get my room all to yourself,” Nezumi said. Izanami rolled her eyes. 

“Yeah, the room in the house that we haven’t even built yet. Look, just… don’t ignore yourself this time, okay?”

Nezumi scowled, partly because Izanami was annoying him, and partly because he had reached the bottom of the bowl of strawberries but he was still hungry. 

“Whatever. It’s not like it’s any of your business how I feel about him.”

Izanami smacked his arm lightly. “And I didn’t ask, either. All I said was, don’t go charging off into the forest without even thinking about it. Geez.”

“Whatever.”

Nezumi scooped all of the strawberry tops into the bowl, including Izanami’s neat line. 

“Hey,” she said, but he ignored her. Then he took the bowl outside to the compost pile, dumped the trash on the pile, put the bowl down on the front doorstep and walked into the woods. 

Wandering aimlessly through the forest, Nezumi found himself getting more and more irritated. _Shion_! Why was he always such a problem? Why did he have to disrupt Nezumi’s life like this? How was it that his own sister was advocating that he leave his family and go live with that white-haired brat? Because he _needed_ Nezumi. Ridiculous. No, no, no. And where was the white-haired brat? Nezumi wanted to yell at him. No doubt he was wandering around in the forest too, probably about to get himself killed again. _Why_. Why had Nezumi been saddled with such a bothersome companion? 

Nezumi’s thoughts continued in this vein until he found himself at the apple grove. As it was just barely spring, the trees were sprouting tiny leaves, but of course, no apples. Nezumi remembered the day he had walked out of the forest through this grove. Been marched out, actually. And then Shion had come to rescue him. 

Something struck Nezumi then. Shion wasn’t really as much of a burden as Nezumi pretended he was. He had saved Nezumi’s life as many times as Nezumi had saved his. He had put aside his own comfort to allow Nezumi into his home, get Nezumi a job, even rescue Nezumi’s sister from a place he hadn’t wanted to go. 

Remembering this, Nezumi felt ashamed of his irritation. How could Shion inspire such angry feelings in him when he was actually blameless?

The answer was that Nezumi wasn’t really angry with Shion, he was angry with himself. 

Nezumi threw his hands up in disgust. _No, not this_. That would mean Izanami was right. _No_!

Dejectedly, Nezumi kicked the base of a tree, and it showered little droplets of dew on him. Nezumi scowled at the tree, then sat down at its base, not caring that the ground was cold and wet and sure to get muddy marks on his pants.

Hugging his knees to his chest, Nezumi tried to sort out his messy thoughts. There were so many questions to answer. Why was he angry with himself? What did he really feel about Shion? What place had the greatest claim on his heart – the forest with his people, or the small room in the West Block where he had lived with Shion for five months? And when he found the answers to these questions, what was he going to do about them?

Shion was dangerous. This is something Nezumi had known from the second he had set foot in the West Block. Shion could hurt someone as easily as heal them. And yet… Shion had said, in the Correctional Facility, that he would never kill again. Could his word be trusted? Nezumi had seen how upset Shion was over having killed Dr Ito, even though the good doctor deserved death more than anyone Nezumi had ever met before. Sometimes Shion threatened Nezumi, but short of grabbing his shirt-front and backing him into corners, he had never laid a hand on Nezumi in anger. Whereas Nezumi had threatened to hit Shion several times, even though it was well within Nezumi’s power to control himself better than that. 

And truthfully, Shion was more vulnerable than Nezumi wanted to believe. He was lonely and more than a little lost and isolated. And all of this inspired Nezumi’s protective instinct. After having seen Shion in such intense emotional distress, after having heard his story fall from his trembling lips, Nezumi didn't think he had it in him to raise a hand to Shion ever again.

He cared about Shion, and about Shion’s well-being. That was the first thought that leapt to true clarity inside of his mind. Nezumi pressed his face to his knees for a moment and sighed into his jeans. _Ridiculous foolishness_. And yet, it was true. Since the first moment of their meeting, Nezumi had been eager to know Shion, to understand him. He could not deny it; the feeling was too strong. But Nezumi had other friends. Why should Shion be so much more important than everyone else he knew?

 _Maybe I’m in l_ —

Nezumi grimly cut that thought off before it could form properly. That was not a thought he was ready to have. “I care for him” was the most stunning idea he would admit to at present. 

There was one mystery solved. But how did Shion feel about Nezumi? Was it even worth it for Nezumi to waste time trying to act on his feelings?

_“Nezumi, I need you. I really, really need you.”_

Nezumi answered his own question with a quick snippet of memory. A memory wreathed in smoke and blood. But a memory in which his heart had momentarily leapt in gladness. Because Shion had said those words to him, and meant them. 

These realisations were not making Nezumi feel any better. In fact, they were making him more irritated than ever. The logical conclusion of them was to take Izanami’s advice and move back to the West Block. Nezumi turned his head dejectedly to the side and started playing with pieces of wet grass on the ground beside him. 

He stayed sitting under that tree for a very long time indeed. 

Finally, when he was sufficiently cold and damp, he stood and stretched out as much of the stiffness in his limbs as he could. Then, he walked slowly home.

When he arrived back at the house, he found his entire family in the kitchen, sitting around the table. The bowl he had left on the front step had been replenished and was sitting in the middle of the table. His parents had evidently just returned, because they were setting out a loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese. 

“Nezumi’s back,” Izanami announced. His mother immediately came to embrace him, and he hugged her back awkwardly. 

“There you are, my treasure,” she said. “You were gone for quite a while.”

“Just out,” Nezumi said vaguely. On any other day he might have winced at the pet name, but he was so glad to be home that he didn’t really mind. He wanted to ask if Shion had come back, but he wanted to delay that for just a little while. Besides, he didn’t want to give Izanami the satisfaction. 

“How’d the meeting go?” he asked, as his mother returned to setting the table. 

“It was excellent,” his father said. “We held re-elections for the joint cheiftans, and sent out scouts to find out if the location of our previous village is still available.”

“Your parents got themselves elected again,” Nezumi’s grandmother said. “As well as the Kobayashis. As if nothing had changed. That Ichiro Kobayashi’s a darn sight meaner’n’ he was before that logging plant was built. Wife’s alright, though.”

“Mother…” Nezumi’s father complained. Izanami giggled. 

Nezumi’s grandmother patted the table. “Come eat with us, Nezumi. Or were you too eager to go find your… companion?” she said slyly. 

What was it with Nezumi’s family and making stupid hints about his feelings towards Shion? 

Nezumi scowled and plopped sullenly into a chair between his grandmother and his sister. 

“You’ve got something to say to us, haven’t you?” Nezumi’s grandmother asked. 

“Yeah, get off my case,” Nezumi retorted. 

“Now, now.” Nezumi’s mother set a plate of bread and cheese in front of him. “Nezumi, we hope to move the village starting this weekend. Your father and I will be going back right away to oversee the rebuilding. The Kobayashis are going to be managing this town until everyone else can move over.”

“I wanna go with,” Izanami piped up.

Nezumi’s father laughed. “We’ll see about that, Iza. It all depends what the rest of the family wants to do.”

Nezumi, meanwhile, was quietly and miserably swallowing down the food he had been given. Less than a week? How could everything be moving so fast? Wouldn’t he even be given 7 days grace?

“I want to go too,” Nezumi’s grandmother announced. “I’ve had enough of this wretched concrete bunker. Let me back to the woods where I belong, I say!” She thumped the table with her fist. 

“Yeah!” said Izanami.

Both of Nezumi’s parents were smiling at their daughter’s enthusiasm, but then Nezumi’s mother noticed that he wasn’t participating in the conversation. 

“Nezumi, dear, what would you like to do?”

Nezumi stared straight ahead, chewing slowly, before he swallowed and answered. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t want to stay here. I’d love to go with you this weekend. But…”

“He wants to go back to the West Block with Shion,” Izanami said, sounding very pleased with herself. 

Nezumi opened his mouth to snarl out a disdainful response, but his grandmother recognized the danger signs and gave him a warning look. He shut his mouth with a snap. 

Nezumi’s parents exchanged glances. 

“Must you go away so soon, darling?” Nezumi’s mother said. Nezumi felt a heavy weight settle onto his chest and bowed his head over his plate. 

“Oh, my dear. I understand, I do. But…” she trailed off.

“Stop right there,” Nezumi’s grandmother ordered. “We’re not making any decision until Nezumi tells us about this Shion character. Tell us who he is. I’m not letting my only grandson go off with some worthless wastrel.”

Nezumi looked up. His family’s curious faces looked back at him. His grandmother’s, sceptical – in a caring way, he knew. Izanami’s, confident and mischievous as usual. His mother’s, filled with concern and love. 

So he began to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for the shitty previous chapter, here's this. Actually, I have to admit I've been working on this thing so much that I can't tell if any of it's good anymore. Like, I seriously cannot tell if this is good writing or bad writing. It could be wildly out of character. _I don't know._ Forgive me...
> 
>  By the way, we've broken 60,000 words. Did you know that the average teen novel is 50,000 words long? That's right, I wrote you guys an entire novel and then some... (And I wasn't even planning on doing NaNoWriMo!)
> 
> ~~Hold on to your hats kids, the good-bye kiss is in the next chapter~~


	24. But Once

The story of how he had met Shion, and of what happened after, was a hard one for Nezumi to tell. Parts of it were intensely private and personal, while still others were scary and confusing. He hoped that his parents wouldn’t be upset with him for hiding Shion’s first visit in the rainstorm, all those years ago. Yet it was an essential part of the story, and he could not possibly leave it out. When Nezumi described Shion’s bizarre behaviour, he was afraid they wouldn’t see that it didn’t define him as a dangerous person, but as a brave one. And he realised that he didn’t want to see Shion as dangerous either. He wasn’t in the habit of trusting others, and he didn’t want to start but – Shion was _Shion_. 

At the conclusion of the story, Nezumi let his hands drop into his lap and waited for judgement to fall upon him. 

“I wondered why that boy seemed so afraid,” Nezumi’s grandmother said. With a shock Nezumi remembered that Shion had bandaged her wrists for her just two days ago, when Izanami was taken away. 

“Shion needs him,” Izanami piped up helpfully. Nezumi shot her a look and she raised her eyebrows at him. 

Nezumi’s mother was nodding. “Well, my dear. According to the old laws, you are of age. We’ll miss you terribly, of course. But the wall has come down. Nothing should stop you from following your heart. You _will_ visit us, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” Nezumi said, slightly grumpy that she would even imagine him forgetting to visit them. Given that he trusted so few people in the world, and that most of those people were his immediate family, how could he not?

“How will you make your living? Will you keep acting and singing?” his father asked. 

Nezumi had conveniently forgotten to mention the detail that most of this acting and singing was in drag. 

“Yes,” he said. “Maybe now I could get into a theatre inside No. 6.”

 _Those elites can afford to pony up to watch me sing_.

Even though he still felt a strong aversion to No. 6, he didn’t hate the people who lived there anymore. The government was destroyed, and those were the people he really hated. And after having seen the ordinary citizens frozen with screaming mouths, dying just the same as his people did, it was harder to wish more of the same on them. True, he was disdainful of the cosseted, privileged classes who lived within the city walls. But that wouldn’t stop him from taking their money on opening night. 

“Hmmm,” Nezumi’s father said. Nezumi guessed that he might have hoped Nezumi would become one of the tribe’s chiefs after him, but he knew better than to try and force his son into a role he didn’t want. 

“What do you think, mother?” Nezumi’s father asked his grandmother.

She pondered for a moment. “Giving your life away to another is foolish,” she said. Nezumi tensed. “But… perhaps you do not need that warning, Nezumi. You, out of all of us, have always guarded your heart. I have never before feared for your safety in that regard. Perhaps it is time for me to give you my second piece of advice.”

 _What_?

If his grandmother had anything else to say on the subject of love and trust, Nezumi had certainly never heard it before.

“If there comes a person who you have put faith in and they have consistently rewarded you with joy and hope… then to walk away from them would be folly.”

“But you always said that I can’t rely on anyone other than myself,” Nezumi said in disbelief. 

“No I have not,” his grandmother replied calmly. “I said that you must depend on yourself before all others. You must not expect anyone else to be there for you. But if one is, why would you wish to leave them? Their strength can only add to yours.”

Nezumi could not believe his ears. 

But hadn’t he seen the truth of what his grandmother was saying with his own eyes? 

_We’re in this together. Live or die, climb or fall, eat bread or go hungry_.

 _I’m me, and you’re you. We can’t do the same things. We can’t be the same. But we can support each other like this. Both of us. That’s another truth about us_.

“I understand,” he said. 

“If your parents are agreed, I give you my blessing,” Nezumi’s grandmother said. Nezumi, who had gained much practice in reading the eyes of others thanks to his time with Shion, saw something new in his grandmother’s eyes that he had never noticed before. There was wisdom there, and steely strength and resolve, which he had always known. But there was kindness too. He could have laughed aloud at himself. Of course there would be. His grandmother had always cared for him, hadn’t she? Even though she preached total independence, he had never once seen her practice it when it came time to make a sacrifice on his or his sister’s behalf. Or even on behalf of his parents. 

They exchanged another set of glances with each other, and Nezumi’s father inclined his head. 

“You may live in the West Block,” Nezumi’s mother said. 

Nezumi sighed with relief. He felt, finally, that the path before him was clear. He would live in the West Block with Shion, and all would be well. Their lives would not be easy, but they would have each other. The threat of being put in jail by virtue of their births was gone. Most importantly, he would not have to choose between Shion and his family. He could see either of them whenever he wanted.

“Don’t I get a vote?” Izanami said petulantly. 

“Sure, fine,” Nezumi said, internally rolling his eyes. He already knew what she was going to say. 

“I vote you give me free tickets for your next play.” 

_Uh…_

Actually, that was not what he was expecting. 

“Free? I don’t think so.”

_Izanami will never let me live down that ridiculous dress._

Nezumi’s mother stood and began stacking the plates which had been emptied while Nezumi was talking. 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” she said. “Then we can all visit you.”

“And bring you flowers on opening night!" Izanami said excitedly.

“Yes, you do that,” Nezumi sighed. With that tone of voice, there was no way he’d argue her out of this one. “By the way, does anyone know where Shion is? I need to go talk to him.”

“Oh, he came back while you were out,” Izanami said. “He’s been downstairs this whole time.”

“What?”

Nezumi stood up and didn’t even bother to push in his chair. 

“Bye, everyone. See you later.”

“That’s gratitude for you!” Izanami yelled as he hurried out the door.

Nezumi dashed around the house to the basement door. Upon opening it, he found Shion sitting cross-legged on the bed with his back to the wall. His eyes were unfocused. 

Sighing, Nezumi wondered how he’d managed to find someone who spaced out as easily as Shion. 

But Shion did notice Nezumi come in. When he saw Nezumi, he stood up. There was a barely perceptible spring in his step, and it looked an awful lot like an anxious bounce to Nezumi. 

“Nezumi, you’re back,” Shion said. Nezumi had intended to come inside, but Shion seemed equally determined to get outside. So Nezumi let himself be walked backwards out the door, so that they were standing in the yard. 

“Is everything okay?” Nezumi asked. 

“Yes, yes. You?”

“Yes.” _More than okay. Shion, both of us are free, and I can be with you. In spite of myself_.

Shion looked down at his feet. Nezumi suddenly felt afraid. 

“I want to go back to the West Block,” Shion announced. Strangely, he had clenched his hands into fists. Did he expect Nezumi to forbid him from going?

“That’s fine. So do I,” Nezumi said, trying to reassure him.

Shion looked startled. “But Nezumi – you can’t come with me.”

“Why not? I have permission,” Nezumi said, confused.

“Your parents said you can leave home? At sixteen?”

“It’s normal for the Forest People,” Nezumi said defensively.

Shion shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t come with me. I have to be alone.”

The words fell hard and heavy like stones, sinking into Nezumi’s stomach and weighing him down. How could what Shion was saying possibly be true?

_“Nezumi, I need you. I really, really need you.”_

_Was that a lie_?

“But –”

“I was meant to be alone, Nezumi. And you weren’t. You have a family and you love them. I can’t get between you like that. You deserve better than me. I’ll never be normal. I’ll never be accepted by others, even with the wall gone. Please – don’t argue with me on this. I can’t let myself ruin your life. Let me go.” Shion’s eyes were downcast, and his voice aching. Nezumi’s chest was beginning to ache too. 

_How can you do this to me? Now, when I’ve finally decided it’s okay to want to be with you, in spite of your flaws_?

“Shion.”

Nezumi clenched his fists. If words were arrows, Nezumi’s heart would have been pierced at least twenty times by now. The things Shion was saying were so untrue, they hurt him to hear.

“You can’t say things like that. You weren’t made to be alone any more than I was. We need each other. We help each other, remember? That’s what our friendship is founded on.”

A light breeze blew, as if echoing the gusts of wind that had accompanied Shion’s very first arrival to this house so many years ago. A few leaves drifted out of the forest and settled on the mud flat between Nezumi’s house and the trees. Now that the Forest People could resume their old ways and care for the forest again, this place would soon be gone. But Shion and Nezumi were still here. 

Shion’s face was crumpling with a look of distress. Tears were beginning to well up in his eyes. _No… Shion, don’t cry. It can’t end like this. I won’t let it. Stay with me_. 

His thoughts echoed the words Shion had spoken to him in the Correctional Facility. 

_Stay with me, oh, stay with me_.

“Nezumi, please. I can’t help you anymore. I’m useless in a normal world. Don’t let me be a burden to you. I should have just died in the Correctional Facility.” One of Shion’s hands unconsciously flew to the scar around his neck. Nezumi reached out and covered Shion’s hand with his own, but Shion slipped away. He wouldn’t meet Nezumi’s gaze.

Nezumi narrowed his eyes, deciding to test Shion. “So you don’t want to be with me?”

“I – I want to, but it’s impossible.”

“But why?”

“Don’t you understand?”

Nezumi shook his head. Then he gently cupped Shion’s chin in his hand and tilted his face up.

“Shion, I want to stay by your side. I can’t believe I’m saying that. I can’t believe it’s true, but it is. I know you don’t want to live alone again. Don’t force that feeling on me too.” He was asking – no, he was begging.

Shion squeezed his eyes shut. Nezumi sensed that he was arguing intensely with himself, but was giving himself no quarter, no respite. A tear leaked out of the corner of his eye. Nezumi wiped it away with his thumb. 

“Nezumi, I’m serious –”

Nezumi leaned forward. Their lips overlapped. It was a searing, but gentle, passionate kiss. Shion kissed back shyly, but his hands were tightly clutched in the front of Nezumi’s shirt. He wrapped his arms around Shion and pressed their bodies tightly together, so he could feel Shion’s heart fluttering against his chest. Nezumi poured all his heart into that kiss. All his desire to protect and hold Shion, to stay by his side and be with him from now on.

Shion gasped as they broke apart. 

“Was that… a goodbye kiss?” he said, with eyes still brimming.

Nezumi looked into those eyes, and marvelled at how easily he could read them now. He was sure that his own eyes softened to see how beautiful their pale purple colour was in the afternoon light.

“A prayer. To be by your side.”

He gently stroked the scar on Shion’s cheek. It was time for them to sew up their wounds and begin anew. 

“Nezumi… do you really think we can be happy together?”

Nezumi smiled. The wind blew softly and the clouds opened up. His whole body felt warmed, whether by the sun or by the kiss, he did not know.

“Of course I do.”

Shion took a deep shuddering breath. 

“Then take me home, Nezumi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are welcome~


	25. And in the End, We Begin Again

Nezumi and Shion moved back into Shion’s house in the West Block together. 

They didn’t stay there long though, because the West Block was cleared out. The Restructural Committee had decided that all should have access to the services provided by the city, so they knocked down a few walls and added some space on to the Lost Town so that the people of the West Block could take up residence there instead. 

Nezumi did not hate living inside No. 6 as much as he thought he would. Having access to consistently potable running water and electricity was a luxury for him. Besides, the Restructural Committee was constantly improving the quality of life for them. Sure, the first few months were chaos. But every day, the lines of hardship and suffering disappeared from people’s faces, to be replaced with friendliness and hope. And he did not feel restricted or artificial, as he had feared. This may have had something to with the fact that his grandmother was on the Committee. She had been sent there as a special Forest Person delegate. As the mother of one of the four chiefs of the clan, she was the logical choice. And nothing got past her, either. 

The rebuilding of the forest – both the home that its people were making and the repairing of the damages done by the filthy, polluting logging plant – was well underway by mid-summer. Nezumi went to visit several times. Once in a while, Shion went with him. He and Nezumi both found a measure of peace walking in the freedom of the green shade. Nezumi showed Shion all the edible fruits, and Shion marvelled at such sights as deer feeding on low-hanging leaves and a mother bird regurgitating food for her young ones. Sometimes Nezumi missed being able to live in such a serene natural environment, but he never once regretted his decision to live with Shion. He still would not admit the depth of his feelings for Shion, but they continued to sleep in the same bed every night. And whenever Nezumi had a nightmare, as he often did – Shion would throw an arm over him and they would talk softly until they both fell asleep again. 

Izanami did come to Nezumi’s next play, as she had threatened. Nezumi’s manager did _not_ let him take a male role (“Waste of a pretty face, m’boy!). Fortunately, the teasing was not as bad as he had feared it would be. Mostly because Nezumi’s grandmother pronounced him to be the best singer she had heard in many a year, and contradicting her word was always a risky business. 

Meanwhile, many things were coming to light about the previous government of No. 6, including the true contents of the Correctional Facility. Needless to say, the people of the city were shocked and appalled to hear of the experiments and tortures taking place there. A party of rescuers was sent to discover whether anyone was left alive in the caves beneath ruined Correctional Facility. They discovered that yes, the entire population of the cave had survived. After that, the members of the cave began to slowly re-integrate into society, one at a time. Some of them went to live in the forest, which was a more soothing environment for their troubled minds. Nezumi’s parents and their co-chiefs the Kobayashis were perfectly willing to help them make a living on the land, as long as they behaved themselves.

Safu was one of the first Rou allowed to go aboveground, and she became part of the Restructural Committee. Though her memories of the past were hazy, the testing done to her had not impeded her ability to form new memories, so she was able to live a relatively normal life in the house her grandmother had left her. Sometimes, she would spend time with Nezumi and Shion. In spite of himself, Nezumi always enjoyed her visits. And of course, Shion did too.

As for Inukashi, he was quite happy to raise baby Shionn in his new hotel on the outskirts of the Lost Town. He also began breeding dogs as companions, which the residents of No. 6 happily paid for. Some dogs he trained as service pets, which were in demand after all the trauma inflicted on the city. To Nezumi’s relief, Shion didn’t want one. He was fine with his three mice. 

So it went. 

There was only one unresolved problem…

 

***

 

Nezumi raised his hand and rapped sharply on the door of the bakery. 

No answer – well, that was no surprise. It was a Friday, about half an hour after closing time. Undoubtedly the baker was cleaning up the shop, not expecting any more visitors. 

Shion was standing behind him nervously, a hood pulled up over his white hair, his hand protruding from an overlong black sleeve to clutch the back of Nezumi’s jacket. 

_Idiot_ , Nezumi thought fondly. Truth be told, he was somewhat nervous himself. What if the woman Inukashi had tracked down to this bakery wasn’t really Shion’s mother after all? Or worse, what if she didn’t want Shion back? But then again, who wouldn’t want Shion?

Someone who wanted their son to be normal and un-traumatized, of course. 

Nezumi knocked on the door again. 

“Maybe we should go,” Shion said in a whisper. 

“Shhh,” Nezumi said, his hand still raised. Before he could knock for a third time, the bakery door opened. A woman was standing there – brown hair up under a lavender kerchief, holding a broom in one hand, warm brown eyes puzzled. She had a very open, honest, warm face, and a plump, welcoming figure. There were flour splotches on her apron. Nezumi could instantly see her resemblance to Shion – it was in the incredible expressiveness of her eyes, the round shape of her face. This _had_ to be Karan. 

“I’m sorry, but we’re closed,” she said, gesturing at the sign on the door. “Come back on Monday. The special is cravats.” She tilted her head and smiled. 

Nezumi heard Shion’s sharp intake of breath behind him.

“Good day, ma’am. My name is Nezumi. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m not here about the pastries,” Nezumi said politely. “It’s a little more personal than that.”

“Oh?” Karan said, frowning. “How can I help you?”

Nezumi took a deep breath. “May we come inside, please?”

She looked wary. “Perhaps you should come back during normal hours…”

It would probably be a bad idea to press her. But Nezumi didn’t really want to announce that he had found her long-lost son in the middle of the street. 

“Ma’am, does the name Shion mean anything to you?” 

Karan gasped, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand. Her face was pale, and Nezumi could see her shoulders trembling slightly. She peered over Nezumi’s shoulder, and her eyes widened. Wordlessly, she stood aside to let both boys into the bakery, then closed the door and leaned the broom up against it. Inside, the bakery was very tidy and clean. The empty racks that normally displayed pastries were gleaming softly in the light of the sunset coming through the glass shop-front.

“Shion is – he _is_ my son,” Karan said, in voice choked with emotion. Nezumi had a feeling she knew who he had brought with him, but he didn’t want to rush this, if only for Shion’s sake. 

“That’s what I was hoping you would say,” Nezumi said. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

“You have?” Karan’s eyes filled with tears. She glanced again at the cloaked figure behind Nezumi. 

Nezumi turned around, took Shion’s shoulders, and gently pushed Shion between himself and Karan. 

Slowly, Shion raised his hand, his sleeve slipping down to reveal the ring around his wrist. He lowered his hood to reveal his white hair and his lilac eyes. 

“Mom?” he said, in a pitifully uncertain voice. 

Karan gasped. For one gut-wrenching moment, Nezumi was afraid she’d reject Shion or push him back. But instead, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. 

“Shion, you’ve come home,” she sniffed. “My baby boy, my son…”

“Mom,” Shion said, hugging her tightly. And then he began to cry. 

It was hard for Nezumi to watch. Karan was smiling, though her eyes were still teary. Shion was crying in that pitiful silent way of his, and even though Nezumi knew they were healing tears, it still hurt him to see it. 

He was completely startled when Karan reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

“Huh?” he said. 

“You brought my child back to me,” she said earnestly. 

_No I didn’t, Inukashi did all the work. I just held Shion’s hand on the trip over_. 

Nezumi shook his head. 

“Come here,” Karan commanded, and Nezumi felt himself pulled into her embrace too. He put one arm around her and one arm around Shion. He felt Shion extract one of his arms from between them and put it around Nezumi’s waist, so that all three of them were hugging each other. Shion was shuddering with repressed sobs and Nezumi’s arm felt cramped. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. But he couldn’t help but think, _thank God that went well_. 

After what seemed to Nezumi like an eternity of crying and hugging, he was finally released. Karan took the kerchief out of her hair and wiped her eyes with it. Shion still looked slightly lost, so Nezumi sighed and took his hand, earning such a grateful look that he felt embarrassed. He gave Shion’s fingers a supportive squeeze and received a feebler one in reply. 

“I can’t believe you’re still alive,” Karan sniffed, neatly folding the kerchief. “My darling – am I still allowed to call you that? Not in front of your… friend?” She looked Nezumi up and down. Nezumi marvelled at how utterly accepting she was. Not only did Shion look like a freak show to most people, but he had just waltzed in here holding the hand of a strange and disreputable-looking (male) Forest Person. And yet Karan had hugged and cried on both of them, and her only concern was their relationship status and what pet names she was allowed to use. Incredible. 

“You can call me whatever you want,” Shion said earnestly. “Although… maybe not in front of Nezumi. He’ll never let me live it down.” 

Nezumi snorted. 

Karan laughed, her eyes crinkling into very easy smile lines. Nezumi wondered how long it would take her to notice that Shion was really bad at displaying emotion, and if she’d remark on it. Had Shion once been capable of laughing and crying as easily as his mother? Maybe now that he was restored to her, he’d re-learn it. That thought made Nezumi feel very warm and glad. 

“Are you two staying nearby? Would you like to stay the night here? I have a spare room. I kept it for you just in case. I could make a cherry cake. Is that still your favourite? If it isn’t, please tell me. I’ll make something else. Oh, I don’t have many ingredients left, because it’s a Friday…” Karan said, twisting the hem of her apron in her hands. 

“Y – you don’t have to go to any trouble,” Shion started to say, but Nezumi interrupted him. 

“Yes, we’d love to stay the night. I can’t speak for Shion’s favourite pastry, but cherry cake sounds fine to me.”

“It is still my favourite,” Shion said indignantly. He let go of Nezumi’s hand and elbowed his arm. Nezumi smirked. 

Karan looked from Nezumi to Shion. When Shion didn’t argue with Nezumi’s declaration that they would stay, she smiled again. “Oh, you don’t know how happy this makes me. I’ll go turn the ovens back on right away. Oh, Shion, I missed you so much!”

She started towards the ovens at the back of the bakery.

“Wait, Mom,” Shion said. 

Karan turned back towards them. “Yes?”

“Don’t you care – that I look so strange?”

Karan looked confused. “You mean your hair? Why should I care about that? As a matter of fact, I think you look quite lovely, darling. But it’s not very important. All that matters to me is that you’re here in my bakery. You’re not going to disappear again, are you?”

Shion was blinking back tears again, so Nezumi replied for him. “We used to live in the West Block, but now we’re right outside of Lost Town. It’s not more than an hour’s walk. If we move anywhere, it will be closer to the city. Personally, I wouldn’t mind getting out of that hellhole, but it’s Shion’s call, since it’s his house.”

“Shion owns a house? In Lost Town? And one in the West Block?” 

“In a manner of speaking,” said Nezumi, trying and failing to imagine this gentle, kind woman roaming the dangerous streets of the West Block or sitting on Shion’s ratty grey sofa.

Shion cleared his throat loudly. “It’s probably best if we don’t describe it.”

Karan laughed. “Well, I won’t press you two for details about anything. Like I said, I’m just happy that you’re right here in front of me, safe.”

Shion smiled, giving for him what was the equivalent of a big, wide, sloppy grin, and Nezumi’s heart swooped in joyous response. 

_You don’t know the half of it_ , thought Nezumi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this story has been a wild ride, from start to finish. I really hope you guys liked it. I was actually not planning on finishing it until the lovely Ahiku displayed interest in it, so you should probably go thank her. Or something.
> 
> ~~HOW COULD I RESIST THE FLUFFY ENDING HOW~~
> 
> I plan to rewrite several of the last chapters at some point. Barring those which I have already marked in the author comments for revision, constructive criticism, reviews, comments, etc. are always welcome! Please don't think that just because the story was posted a while ago it means I no longer care about getting feedback on it.
> 
> Here's my last present to you: [An 8tracks playlist!](http://8tracks.com/rogueofheart/fateswap)  
>  **Track list** :  
>  _Comptine D'une Autre Eté_ (Song of Another Summer) by Yann Tiersen  
>  Gods & Monsters by Jessica Lange  
> Drought by Vienna Teng  
> The Lament of Eustace Scrubb by Alex Boase  
> Everything Goes Dark by the Hoosiers  
> Help I'm Alive by Metric  
> The Taming of the Hands Which Came Back To Life by Sunset Rubdown  
> Summertime by My Chemical Romance  
> Arrival of the Birds by the London Metropolitan Orchestra
> 
> *************************************************  
>  **JUST KIDDING THAT WAS NOT THE LAST PRESENT.**  
>  Fateswap now has a Beyond, which you can read HERE:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3437168/chapters/7534301  
> You heard me. 7 more chapters of Fateswap. Two smut scenes included. Fuck yes.  
> ***************************************************


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